


Distractions

by Niedosytnix



Series: Inevitable Places [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 5127 Ancient, Accidental Cuddling, Almost Fluff, Antivan elf, Apothecary Nadas, Ar Lasa Mala Revas, Comfort, Companionship, Crestwood, Death, Elfroot, Elven Wine, Fluff, Get it?, Graphic Description of Corpses, Healing, Herbalism, High Elves, Horror, Inquisitor as a Companion, Loneliness, M/M, Minor Dorian Pavus/vague Inquisitor, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Rain, Rating May Change, Recreational Drug Use, Screw Elan Ve'Mal, Sleep Wandering, Snowed In, Trauma, Wine snobbery, as in some chapters may contain sexual content eventually, hahahaha, ice storm, men kissing, not THAT scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niedosytnix/pseuds/Niedosytnix
Summary: Prompt repository for Nadas'an.Stories that don't fit in 'the Retelling', what-ifs, paths not taken, occasional alternate realities. Chapters added out of order.  Probably. Definitely.Contents in the notes.





	1. An unkind rain

**Author's Note:**

> **-CONTENTS-**
>
>> **Canon Prompts:**  
>  _[Pre-relationship prompts inline with the retelling]_  
>  Chapter 1: Distractions in the rain nearly get Nadas'an killed.  
>  [Chapter 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/19559539): Isolation while besieged by a blizzard prompts Nadas to open up.  
>  [Chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/20402722) : Too many Apothecaries spoil the potion.  
>  [Chapter 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/20890607) : First use of magic.  
> 
>
>> **As a companion:**  
>  _[A happier universe in which Nadas is unburdened by being the Inquisitor, light-hearted fluff-ridden prompts to offset the retelling with bonus eventual vaguequisitor x Dorian]_  
>  [NEW][Chapter 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/33361875): Like finding an Antivan in the desert  
>  [Chapter 6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/20311750): Nadas'an likes to smoke, Solas joins him  
>  [NEWER][Chapter 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/33366069): It was a gift and more  
>  [Chapter 8](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/19609258): Not sleeping alone leads to a first kiss  
>  [Chapter 9](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/19609294): Elf-shutoff switch  
>  [Chapter 10](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/19654738): A different campfire - PDA
>
>> **What-if Prompts:**  
>  _[AU, Alternate endings, paths not taken. Mostly not canon]_  
>  [Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/20399221): At the end of all things Nadas'an regains what was lost.  
>  [Chapter 12](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8481001/chapters/20431516): Bad jokes at the end of all things  
> 
>
>> **Out of order chapters yet to be posted:**  
>  The aftermath of chapter 2, likely set in the western approach.  
>  How Nadas'an figured out Solas is Fen'Harel.  
>  -  
>  The aftermath of 'Elfroot'.  
>  The nsfw chapter that directly follows their first kiss.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> ~~It burns me a little bit, that this is so effortless to write while my other solasmance is flaying me for every inch.  
>  Not much I can do about it.~~
> 
> TIL a drabble is 100 words. Well. I guess this is just a fic/prompt dump then?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prior to the Retelling, and after the shared dream in Haven.
> 
> More distractions than the constant rains linger in their minds. 
> 
> Crestwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Cause people are writing about rain and I felt left out. I love the rain.  
> And 'cause terrible things in the news and I'm drinking, and it's been too long since I've written smut-free fluff.

Damp. Cold. _Corpses._

Nadas'an's attention waned from the present- cycling through those three deafening distractions. Soaked through his armor, his undershirt clung to his skin in a way that made him supremely uncomfortable and no amount of fidgeting would relieve it. Trapped beneath metal and leather, he longed to remove the annoyance but for the cold. Bone-deep, it was enough to make even his limited movements in battle useless at keeping warm. Stiff and shivering, his hair stuck to his face. It was beginning to affect his casting, _an unkind rain._ Not life-giving, not preceding the desert in full bloom, this deluge drowned. Sapped of warmth, the added effort to slog through the mud sapped his strength, and then of course there were the corpses.

A never ending march of death, reanimated bodies, broken, hollow eyed, anger formed their shuffling movements. Whatever spirits lay trapped beneath that leathery skin stretched tight over moldering bones were furious. He could not tell if it was simply due to their poor choice of host, or something more sinister.

He shivered. Another corpse fell to pieces, too broken to get back up. A fresh wash of cold poured down his back, his hood was a hindrance, fallen back in battle to catch the rain. Someone was speaking, but the sky had opened up to wash them all away- the din grew to a dull roar. A hand grasped his elbow. He turned only to be tackled to the mud. Grasping hands followed with a yawning greed- searching for his neck as he sank into the chilled earth. Eyes shut to the death that reached for him, he fought frantically, losing grip on his stave to pry the dead fingers from his throat, gasping against the dirt laden water that began to flood his open mouth.

_He couldn't even scream._

Ice bloomed at his touch. His fingers froze but the creature stopped moving. He felt it shatter, pieces falling away as he was hauled up by the front of his armor, choking. He coughed, spat out mud, but the grit in his teeth would remain for hours. _Another distraction._

A sudden, unnatural warmth flooded his body, a spell, he slowly realized. He wiped the dirt from his mud-blinded eyes to see an equally mud-spattered Solas standing over him. Dampened concern in his gaze, the mage must have cast for ice as well.

_It seemed the man would always come to his rescue._

 

The long trek back to town had mostly washed them clean. They made camp well away from the lake in a ruined tower above the besieged village, taking turns reinforcing the civilian militia at the gate. The villagers were wary enough as it was without imposing their presence on one of them for the night. He saw the distrustful looks from between boarded windows. The only human among them was Cole, and well... it wouldn't take long for that to be less than a small comfort once the boy spouted someone's consciousness.

It was less damp under the remains of the rotted second floor that served as a roof, the fire warm and welcoming, casting an almost cozy light upon the moss-encrusted ruin. He'd shamelessly stripped down to his leggings in a last bid to dry himself and his armor before sleep. Uncaring how little it left to the imagination of the others- _after all there was that one time in the Hinterlands..._ though Cole and Bull had yet to see him so bared. Solas had and he tried not to think about it too closely. Nor about the loaded assessment he fleetingly caught in the eye of the horned man. It was likely only the fascination with his particular color of hair. _Nothing else but more distractions._

His fingers hurt- stiff, burned with an unnatural heat. Frostbitten by the spell that saved him. He should heal it, but it was superficial, a stark lingering reminder at how careless he had been. Rain was still something he was getting used to. Snow had been one thing- he'd never seen it before waking up in Haven, but rain... The rains were _never_ this cold in Antiva.

The fire popped and snapped, stray drops of water hissed in the flames. A voice, quiet, broke the relative silence. A quieter voice answered, lyrical, almost a poem but he wasn't truly listening. Instead, he fixated on his near brush with another unfortunate end, idly tracing the pale circle left and low on his tanned chest. _An arrow that time._ It seemed the anchor was more than simply a beacon to spirits- it made him an easy target in waking as well.

_Too often._

Soft hands stole his own. Warmth coursed through him again, he turned to see Solas crouched at his side scrutinizing his fingers. He watched a question form far away.

"What?"

"Why did you not heal this?"

Oh. He finally let himself look at the damage- red, raw broken skin, tinged white in places but thankfully not blackened. "It was... a mistake. I was not paying attention. I did not wish to forget the lesson." Pale unblemished fingers gently cradled his own, a contrast that only seemed to serve to punctuate the depth of damage.

The elf sighed, casting to heal his hands with barely so much as a gesture. "The mistake was mine, the spell was careless. I was... distracted."

He watched the wounds knit, sun-kissed color returned to his skin. "Distracted?" He scanned the elf's face, eyes veiled, brows drawn- still firmly focused on his healed hands. That the man wouldn't return his gaze was unusual. The answer he received didn't come from the elf.

 _"Distant, dangerous, dwelling on what should not be possible. An indomitable focus that dominates mine. What wisdom lies this way? I must know, but it is too much to ask."_ He gazed idly at Cole, wondering whose thoughts had just been voiced. Solas released his hands and rose slowly to rifle through his pack. The spirit boy gazed through the fire, oblivious to the steady drip of water hitting the brim of his hat, rolling only to continue its descent once it reached the edge. "He would let you in- if you asked."

Iron Bull snorted, _"Riiight._ I think it's my turn at the gate. Good luck... with whatever that was." The man stood, not bothering with half his armor, what half existed in the first place. He watched the Qunari heft the massive axe that surely weighed as much as he did with a fluid ease over a shoulder, the curtain of rain and night swallowed up the hasty escape.

Had it been his thoughts then? Or Solas'? He knew the giant wasn't overly comfortable with Cole's insights. But then... Solas was acting strangely this time too.

But for the constant chorus of the sky silence stood in his wake.

_Until he broke it._

"Ask who?"

The spirit tilted his head, listening- "Telling you might hurt him, I'm sorry."

 _Well,_ that wasn't helpful.

"No. It wasn't. Knowing would help, but helping that would hurt." The spirit was growing anxious, fretting, wringing his hands. "Complicated, set in stone- but the stone has cracked. Change slow and steady where it should be swift-"

"Cole, _stop_. I did not mean to upset you. You don't have to answer me." The boy calmed slightly but the tension in the air remained. He tried to direct his mind to calmer thoughts.

He pondered the words for a time. Giving up on ever having dry hair again- he pulled up a length of vine from the sodden moss-covered stones, slowly stripping it of its leaves as Solas laid out their bedrolls on the driest patches of ground. The green thread lay bare in his hands. He carefully braided it, tied the supple string off and gathered the long spill of his red hair in a loose knot, tying it off with the vine. The spirit flitted off without so much as a word and almost without his notice. Perhaps someone in town needed Compassion. _Who didn’t these days?_ They were alone. Solas settled down with a book. He flopped to his side and rolled over, facing away from the fire, hoping to dry his back before attempting to sleep.

It dawned on him quietly that Cole had spoken out of turn in response to his question. _Distraction_... then that meant… the thoughts belonged to Solas? He glanced back across the fire towards the elf, hoping for a casual interest that would go without notice, yet... he stiffened to meet the man's gaze already on him, the book in hand had lost the elf's attention. His breath caught as Solas quickly resumed reading.

Solas hadn't forgotten the dream.

The man had asked for time he'd willingly given- but it had been months at this point and he honestly thought the elf had just said it to turn him down nicely. After all he was Inquisitor- had his interest been unwelcome- did the man fear to say no?

The thought had disgusted him, and so he stayed away.

But perhaps... _not._

 

Their patch of dry ground was smaller than the one afforded Bull. Their bedrolls close together. _Temptation incarnate._ He silently hoped wherever Cole was, the spirit wasn’t listening as he let his mind wander from the warmth of his furs. The deluge had let up enough that he thought he could hear Bull bellowing in triumph down the hill- but then he might be imagining it. Perhaps he imagined a lot of things. Like how the pale elf's skin might feel against his, soft as his hands, soft as his slight smiles. A warmth to banish the damp chill. It was an unwise train of thought, tending that sort of hope would only turn sour if proven false.

Solas returned from setting his wards and he tried not to pay attention as the man stripped down for sleep, rolled to face the fire as the elf stepped near. He wished the rain would pick up to drown out the pounding of his heart. The elf settled down behind him, close enough to reach for and quiet sounds amplified instead. A slight clearing of a throat, the rustling of furs, a small groan as the mage stretched out before curling slightly inward. He was expecting it, but he still flinched when the spell for warmth settled over them like a second blanket. Permeating deeply, it dragged him into comfort though he intended to stay awake to ponder the day full of predicaments. Too many distractions when duty nagged at his thoughts. _A dam, a lake of dead, a drowned tear in the veil... Lost Wardens._

He drifted off against his will to those comforting words spoken by rote- "Sleep well, Nadas'an."

He dreamed of warm rains, a desert in full color. He dreamed of being free from duty, from the weight of death in all its hollow-eyed anger. He dreamed of a lightly freckled man walking with him hand in hand.

_He would wait a while longer._

 

"They don't _want_ to wake up. Everything makes sense in dreams."

The world shook again. He burrowed in deeper despite the heavy weight afflicting his shoulder. Chasing the slightly sleep-soured scent of honey, he grasped tighter at the warmth in his arms. Warmth nuzzled back at his neck, tightened its hold on him. No, he would not give this up. He was finally warm. It was unfair of them to ask him to drag himself through the mud so soon.

"Boss."

"Mmrrhh… _No."_

"Boss, you _really_ should-"

What it was he really should was lost on him at the gasp, arms that had held him tightly startling away. He found himself face to face with a bleary-eyed Solas donned in an expression that promptly chased the Fade away.

_Oh._

The scent of honey suddenly made sense. The man had a sweet-tooth, constantly in possession of small honeyed candies. The hand left his shoulder. Heavy sodden footsteps led away. His thoughts did not follow. Locked to that grey gaze that pierced him, to the heat he could still feel shared between them. He wanted- with a strength that ached, to wake up like this in the arms of another. To share himself, his burdens, his hopes... _his dreams._

Had he dreamt _of_ Solas… or _with_ Solas?

His hand drifted against his will, resting against the pale jaw that un-tensed beneath his fingers. A breath held, though he longed to breathe it in. He felt the man would not break this stalemate- not even to stop him from leaning in.

_He couldn't do it._

Mouthing the words with barely a whisper, he reiterated. "All the time you need, Solas."

His hand fell away, the moment broken. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Trying to afford the man some dignity as he realized the depth of what just happened.

They were both in _his_ bedroll.

 

To know it wasn't he who wandered was a welcome distraction, but he tempered it as they ate a mercifully hot breakfast. Let it linger with the enduring warmth that not even the chill in the rain could sap. Let it lift him as they set out for another day of drowned corpses.

 _Yes_ , he would wait a while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Nadas never got complimented outright on his indomitable focus.


	2. Colder than indifference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Crestwood, sort of aftermath of Chapter 1.
> 
> The one with the snow/herbalism/loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another 'canon' prompt in retelling-verse- An odd dance. 
> 
> Neither is quite sure what to make of the other.  
> Other than the obvious interest.
> 
> [12/14/16: Added a handful of words/fixed a few errors]

Solas' gaze often lingered, and Nadas'an was certain he could feel the weight of it every time he turned his back. The elf's stare felt different to him than the looks that usually trailed his steps. Different than Cole's probing thoughts, different than the calculated stare Bull cast between them. Perhaps it was simply because he knew there was more behind those eyes. Something warm, but impossibly wounded- fleeting, yet constantly assessing.

There had been no apology for the state they had woken in after that dreary night in Crestwood.

He clung to the memory for warmth as wind driven snow stung his face. Icy fingers snatched at the scarf wound tight, his cloak snapped sharply, poor defenses against the maelstrom that fought their advance. The fortress still loomed formidably as a mere shadow through the swirling white haze around them.

He pressed his mount as fast as he dared up the long sloping path to the bridge in an effort to hasten the end of this deadly exposure. It would not do to stray over the edge, nor to work their mounts to a lather only to freeze later. The faint sound of hooves on stone reassured his sense of direction. He was beyond shivering by the time the first gatehouse materialized before them, the gate mercifully open wide. The horn rang out as he passed through, hunkering close to the neck of his hart as they trotted out onto the exposed bridge. The wind threatened to forcefully blow them off course. He could spare no thought for those behind him. They would follow his lead and he needed to lead well.

He quelled the bile that rose reflexively at such a thought.

The drawbridge dropped ahead with a thud and he spurred his hart onward. Stone called out sharply, then the dullness of wood, and then stone again as they passed into the last gate. Nearly at a full gallop through the courtyard- not slowing until they'd rounded the corner before the stables.

The barn doors slowly fought to swing outward. Two heavily bundled figures- vaguely Blackwall and Dennet shaped- held the doors open against the gale. He didn't pull up on the reins until they were well within it's hastily fortified walls. Horses and harts protested In unison as the others pulled up short behind him. The doors shut with a groan of hinges and a wind driven boom.

He swung a leg he could barely feel over, climbing down from his saddle to face what he guessed was Blackwall. Roughly pulling down his scarf to speak unmuffled over the din, "How long has _th-_ this been going on?"

"Since daybreak, Inquisitor. Took us by surprise but we pulled everyone back from the pass. Everything is secure last I heard."

He nodded, trying to quell the chatter of his teeth. "Good _t-_ to hear." Dennet took the reins of his hart, his frozen fingers barely cooperated in letting them go.

"Get inside Inquisition. We've got things covered here."

He gave the warden and the horse master a sharp nod, steeling himself for a flight back into the frozen air. The ice encrusted scarf wound back over his face- Beyond caring whether or not the others followed.

The sudden heat of the kitchen was almost too much- burning his frozen limbs as they crashed through the door. Solas and Bull hot on his heels. Undoubtedly Cole had flitted away on his own. They slammed the door shut with effort. Sparing only a moment to catch their breath before the cook angrily shooed them out into the hall.

Bull was a shade bluer than he'd ever seen him. The man had been wearing the furs of a bedroll beneath the straps of his harness for the past league and a half to try and block the worst of the wind. That did nothing to stop the wind-twisted icicles from forming on the man's horns. His chuckle was little more than a harsh chattering of teeth. The Qunari looked like the dragons he so admired- _only made of ice_. Solas looked like an elf carved entirely of snow. He didn't even want to know what shade of frozen death he must resemble.

They trailed clumps of snow and ice as they trudged up the stone steps- a future fall hazard for anyone following their path. As they emerged into the hall Bull immediately shuffled off to settle down by Varric's table by the fire. Solas lingered at his side while he remained lost in thought, the two of them melting- a puddle beginning to form at their feet. Undoubtedly the advisors would wish to brief him on the state of the fortress in regards to the storm. But he trusted that they had everything well in hand. Better than he at any rate. What does one do to prepare for a blizzard? He shivered as some of the feeling in his limbs returned with the sting of sharp needles. The last time he'd been out in such a storm was his solo flight from Haven. It was not a kind memory.

At least this time his body wasn't broken.

Returning to his tower alone, to while away the snow was not a pleasant thought. Solitude with only the howling winds, so strong they'd surely shake the stones, to keep him company was a slightly terrifying prospect. Solas seemed as reluctant to part ways- if he was any judge. But perhaps he was merely projecting. He glanced at the mage who looked leagues away in gaze, water dripping from his frozen hood, scarf still pulled up to his reddened nose. He couldn't help the slight smile, the man was so far away perhaps he'd only still followed him by habit.

The elf had been rather preoccupied lately.

The smile quickly slid from his face when he remembered what it was he usually did next upon his return from the wilds.

_Tend his garden._

**HIS** garden. Chantry, visiting dignitaries, the insufferable Elan Ve'mal be _damned_. That garden was _his_. Open to the air, unprotected and as certain as he was frozen- all his hard work was currently being killed off. Surely no one else would think to do anything about it.

His staff clattered harshly to the stones, abruptly snapping Solas from his reverie. His pack swiftly followed in descent as he ran the length of the great hall, wrenching open the iron-bound doors in haste. Ignoring the outraged shouts as cold air flooded the hall in his wake.

The door slammed behind him of someone else's accord with a harsh metal framed thud as he stared in disbelief.

His heart sank at the icy state of the garden. His carefully cultivated plants lay buried and frozen under snow drifts up to his thigh.

_He would have to start from scratch._

 

Not another soul braved the sanctuary. He stood alone. Shivering. Watching the pristine tomb manifest, snow piling up in increments around all his hard work- The only work that felt fulfilling. Desperation tightened his chest as all he had slowly slipped away. The storm changed its tune as it whistled around the stones in its path- Deepened in pitch as the storm intensified. The bells on the battlements rang out, watered down against the wind. A wavering warning for all to withdraw, to take shelter. It would only get worse. Yet even so, he could not move. Frozen by more than the biting cold, than the wind that sought to unravel his meager defenses. Anger threatened to warm his bones at the thought of abandoning his garden to the blizzard. Would that he could manipulate the veil here and banish the whole lot of it.

No one would even care but him. Not until they needed his potions and salves. Not until they were wounded or sick. _Not until magic failed their ailments._

His mind made up- He mustered a small spell for heat. It wouldn't help much in this wind that would rob him blind, and it would likely only exhaust him more quickly but it was better than freezing to death by inches. He quickly slipped over the railing. Engulfed in the brunt of the swirling winds, he cut a path through the drift he landed in to the nearest cluster of pots. Casting his foot about until it hit something solid. Plunging his metal clad gauntlets into the drift he grasped the edge of a frozen container with both hands, wrenching it from the icy ground, hauling it up against his chest plate to ease it back over the railing. Elfroot. He went back for Salubrious Embrium, Drakevein, Felandaris. The varieties of lotus would already be a lost cause, the Winterberry would endure, Witherstalk was too brittle. Everything else lay at the other end- and no strength remained in him to reach it.

He was exhausted. His back ached, he shivered even as he sweat, his arms could barely lift the pot containing what he hoped was Arbor Blessing. The pot thudded to the stones and by the sound for a second he thought it had shattered when it slipped his grip- only to catch sight of the door thrown wide again, blown back against the stone wall. A lone elf standing in the open arch. Solas leapt forward, helping him climb back over the railing, cursing loudly in Elvish he couldn't quite catch. A sudden spell for heat flooded his body with a force that shocked him. The elf attempted to drag him back inside, but he fought- slipping the man's grasp to grab up the nearest pot- promptly dragging it into the short hall.

Solas seemed to guess his stubborn mind, assisting him with the remaining pots before he allowed the door to the garden to be shut firmly against the storm. A scarf hastily yanked down showered him with bits of snow, revealing lips thinned in a grim line.

 _"You have a death wish."_ The indignant elf's voice echoed oddly in their small space between doors.

He fought for breath, panting, crouched on the ground, staring defensively up at the elf that looked down on him in anger. "I... most certainly... do _not."_

"That is _not_ what it looks like. Why else go off into that storm for... for _plants?_ For a lost cause?"

He scoffed loudly, _"Plants._ These 'plants' are all I have. Without them-". He dropped his gaze sharply with his argument. It was not a pretty line of thought... but it was true. Without them, he had nothing of his own. Nothing he could be proud of. The Inquisition wasn't his- he was just caught up in it, dangling on strings for the good of others. His reply carried more bite than he wished.

"I have _nothing_."

He stood slowly, heaved open the door to the hall, fetched up a snow laden pot despite the protest in his muscles. Schooling his face into something less than exhaustion, frustration as he dragged himself the length of the hall to ascend his tower. He'd likely be at this all day. There was no need to rush.

 

It felt like it had taken years off his life to reach the top of the stairs. The room was frigid, cold bled through stone, though he was pleased to know he'd remembered to shut the balcony doors this time. Or maybe one of the servants had done it for him. He set the pot down by the empty hearth. It would likely ruin the ostentatious carpet- but he didn't care. Tossing a few split logs into the stone recess, he lit them with a gesture. Confident it would be a somewhat decent fire by the time he returned, he set off for the stairwell only to be faced with a frozen stone-faced elf carrying an equally frozen pot.

He stepped aside in disbelief as the snowy elf strode past, an odd assortment of notably drier inhabitants following in Solas' wake. Each carrying their own pot.

"Where do you want these?"

Nadas'an stumbled up the steps slightly, his legs weak from exertion, peering over the railing to see the expectant faces awaiting his command. Answering as quietly as the elf had asked, "By ... by the fire is fine."

The pots divested soundlessly to the thick carpeting- The assortment of dwarves, elves and humans filtered back down the stairs to the sound of his quiet thanks, and various muted states of 'welcomes'. Only one elf remained as he shut his door behind them.

Solas had shed most of his frozen armor, set down neatly next to both their packs. The fire had been tended better than his haphazard effort, now in the realm of roaring. The taciturn elf was now in the process of drawing his heavy curtains shut against the chill permeating through the glass doors, shirtless and barefoot. He stood still at the crest of his stairs, idly removing his sodden cloak and unfastening the frozen armor that lie underneath with as little movement as possible. It seemed wise to avoid drawing attention to himself.

Watching the elf work, he wondered openly at the motivation behind it. Why would he do this? Why go to such lengths to help him with something deemed so trivial?

He hung his sodden things over the railing as the wind howled anew. The drawn curtains dampened the slight rattle of metal and glass as well as the blinding white light. The room dimmed by degrees until only the glow of the hearth remained. The fire snapped- and still Solas was silent.

It tasted of pity that rang as hollow as his breastplate when he set it down, peeling off his sweat soaked undershirt. He shivered as the still chilled air assaulted his skin unhindered, fumbling to unfasten his thigh high boots. He would take it. Pity was better than the audience of his thoughts, his loneliness... for the moment.

Solas had settled down cross-legged before the hearth without so much as a glance as he struggled, casting a spell to melt the heap of snow in one of the pots. Drawn as a beggar into the promise of wealth- Nadas'an moved automatically to join the elf, equally bare, equally silent as he set to work on another.

 

The storm raged on with no sign of slowing, but his room had grown cozy. Small quiet sounds of life from the other stole his focus- the nearly inaudible breeze of measured breath calmed his mind.

The Elfroot was salvageable, the Embrium was as well. Felandaris was almost impossible to kill off. The Drakevein was severely wilted, but a few days next to the fire might save it. The Arbor blessing was ruined to the root- though it might grow back with the proper attention.

The elf was now back to watching him intently again as he cut away the frost bitten stems and leaves. It was likely the elf would content himself to stare in silence without voicing thoughts so loud he could almost hear them. Solas was clearly a man who tried to puzzle things out without asking- a quirk he hadn't suffered from until lately. The suspicion that still permeated their companions' every move for his choice concerning the remaining templars put a damper on questions- it only invited condemnable questions of their own. The silence felt expectant, as if he was required to break the relative quiet, though he let it linger for a few more moments to gather his thoughts.

"You did not need to do this." He paused to fleetingly glance at the man, unsure of the reason for the probing expression he found there. "I apologize if I kept you from anything important."

"There are things that could have called my attention. None of them, however, are more pressing than this."

He chuckled halfheartedly. What was this? _Suicide watch?_ Keep the poor troubled Inquisitor company to protect him from himself? Or was there more to it? He still wasn't sure what to make of the elf's decidedly distant interest.

Asking might get him answers he feared to receive.

"You do not have to stay, if you do not wish to. I truly do not have a death wish. I'm just... unlucky I guess."

"I am not so certain-" The slight smile died on his lips as he met the man's cold gaze in full. "-but if you truly desire to be alone, I will not force my company on you, Nadas'an."

The elegant brutality of such words devoid of anything but that chilly placid veneer was unsettling. Defenses squared with his shoulders, raised the hairs on his neck. "Why would I wish to end my life? That's absurd. There is too much at stake for such foolish thoughts."

"Why indeed." The elf smoothly leaned back on his hands with an air of smugness. "I think... you have tried very hard to convince yourself of that. And yet you care nothing for your life, nor the chaos that would follow with your death. It is there- written for those willing to look, you long for the release of what binds you against your will."

Wounded. A pained look shot across his face before he could stop it. Thoughts he quelled as soon as they surfaced, shunting them violently to the side so swiftly he was certain no one would ever know. Echoes of old words and a blade he hid from them all. How then, how had Solas known?

He opened his mouth with a feeble refute-

"Do not lie to me _Inquisitor."_

The shift was swift as he snarled at the elf, shot to his feet with the rising heat of anger- only to be deftly disarmed once again. Solas was utterly unperturbed with a look that suggested his reaction had been what the elf expected. The lazy gesture that followed only confirmed it.

 _"That_ \- is exactly what I mean. You resent what they have made of you. Do not let them dictate your image. Make it your own." Solas sighed, redirecting his gaze to the fire, relaxing his posture into something decidedly less provocative. "Death is not the only way out."

It had been a calculated stab.

Silence reigned as he sank back down, he couldn't even be sure the storm still existed beyond his darkened room- not while the pale elf commanded his full attention. It hadn't escaped him that something... almost vulnerable had been divulged. The shift in the man's demeanor, curled slightly inward almost as though protecting some wound. Not suicide-watch then, not entirely...

"You could ask you know- Instead of stabbing."

"Would you have answered me truthfully had I done so?"

His laugh was bitter, sharp and mirthless. _"No._ but it would have been kinder."

"Perhaps."

Solas still faced the fire at his side, but lingering side-long looks belied his feigned disinterest. Was the elf simply attempting to get to know him? To show him things in turn? If so he was going about it all wrong. Had Solas' self-professed solitude made him this inept at relationships? The thought almost amused him before it was swallowed up in sadness. It would explain quite a lot.

"How do you deal with it?"

"Deal with what?"

"The loneliness."

The elf stared at him in full with carefully muted shock, and he felt he'd misstepped some unspoken boundary. Not knowing the rules that bound this strange dance was going to be the end of him. He sighed, falling back to the carpet, running the marked hand down his face in the long familiar gesture. The foreign green glow was a sight easier to endure than that gaze. "I know you do not think much of the Dalish- honestly I do not often know what to think of them. I miss my family. I miss those taken from me. I miss sleeping next to warm bodies in the cold desert nights. I miss the soft sounds of sleep to fill the silence."

"I miss feeling safe. If for even a moment, an illusion."

He took a deep breath to calm the tremor that threatened to rise in his voice. It was too late to stop the unfortunate spill of thoughts now. "That must... sound so childish to you. The naive elf fears to sleep alone. The mighty Inquisitor's dreams are full of death and pain and fear... and it's..." a long drawn out sigh finished his thought better than any words he could muster.

"I'm drowning in it, Solas."

 

Solas finally answered his question quietly- with a seriousness that was its own painful burden. "With practice... Nadas'an. It is not childish, to want to know you are not alone."

The gaze held him, but something within it had changed. An expectancy resurfaced, words withheld. The edge of the carpet upon which they sat became a precipice for something much deeper. _He knew what to ask._

"Will you stay with me? Until the storm is over?"

A depth of unexpected warmth radiated from the look that faced him- His breath stolen by the quiet simplicity of the smile. There had been no spell to blame for the sudden heat that settled in his chest.

"I will stay with you, Nadas'an."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone's been spying on Nadas'an's dreams in an attempt to decide whether or not he should pursue a relationship.
> 
> Out of practice ancient elf is adorably (and infuriatingly) out of practice.
> 
> This wasn't going to happen.  
> But then I gave in and listened to Hallelujah and it just _destroyed_ me.


	3. Embrium by any other name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added out of order [2016/12/19] - New-New Chapter 3
> 
> Canon-prompt | Too many Apothecaries spoil the potion
> 
> Nadas'an has complete and utter control over the Skyhold herb garden. Everyone else does it wrong, which is to say 'different'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short prompt - 1.5k words. Written as correspondence between Nadas'an and Elan Ve'mal.
> 
> FYI: I do not hate Elan Ve'mal, but Nadas would with a passion. It takes a lot to bother him, and this is one of those things he takes VERY seriously. She also is a self-professed ['not a nice person'](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Harvest_of_History) who wants you to kill someone ripping off her work- someone who helped her write her recipes in the first place. 
> 
> That note is featured in most of it's entirety below towards the end, edited and slightly elaborated on in places.

_A note crumpled and partially burnt found next to the hearth in the great hall, written in an elegant flowing script-_

> Elan Ve'mal,
> 
> There cannot be both Salubrious and Dark Embrium planted at the same time or they'll cross pollinate and create something far less efficacious at best and clinically dangerous at worst. The Elfroot needs to be at least 10 paces away from both the Rashvine and Rashvine nettle, there have been instances of secondary reactions in sensitive individuals. And one of your apprentices planted Witherstalk with the Felandaris-
> 
> You know what? No, I'll just do it myself.  
>  Please make an effort to restrain your apprentices.
> 
> -Nadas'an

 

_An official-looking letter from apothecary Elan Ve'Mal, written in a plain hand. Found in the Inquisitor’s quarters, affixed with several critical notes-_

> Inquisitor Lavellan,
> 
> Need I remind you that I have served several important heads of state as well as trained under the best Herbalists in Southern Thedas? I know what I'm doing and I can provide references from the College of Herbalists if you don't believe me.
> 
> _I_ planted the Witherstalk with the Felandaris. There are no known adverse reactions between the two.
> 
> -Apothecary Elan Ve'mal.

 

_A hastily written note left pinned to the door to the gardens by an overly ornate dagger. The script is sharp, hurried, the ink slightly smudged in places-_

> Apprentice Elan Ve'mal,
> 
> References are not necessary. If that's where you learned your mistakes then their word is worth nothing to me.
> 
> Oh and by the way- Witherstalk is a beneficial herb, in case you were unaware. Several here at Skyhold take it. It is a delicate matter and planting it with a harmful plant like Felandaris is ill-advised. Just because no _'known'_ adverse reactions exist is not a challenge to find them. Not to mention the fact that Felandaris is a rather difficult plant to grow considering the veil is _not_ thin here. If it wasn't for Solas it would not grow here at all. –Any- potential for upset needs to be carefully considered. But I am sure you already knew that.
> 
> PS: Please stop attempting to bribe the scouts to deliver your letters to Cabot before they attend Inquisition business. He's in the tavern. I am certain your duties are not so taxing as to keep you from visiting him. Have a drink while you're at it, it sounds like you need it.
> 
> -Apothecary Nadas'an

 

_A letter found amid refuse in the backroom of the tavern. It is heavily revised, many passages are crossed out and nearly illegible. It is uncertain if the letter reached its intended recipient in this form-_

> Inquisitor ~~Asshole~~ Lavellan,
> 
> ~~I was under the impression that the Dalish were simply stubborn, not outright assholes. I will surely pass on these findings. It is no small wonder that the Orlesians evicted your kind.~~ I was not under the impression that the Dalish were certified Apothecaries. I am well-versed in the various strains of herbs the healers rely on and also their interactions. I am also trained in the proper way to care for these plants. Without a larger garden to work with, the arrangement of plants must be prioritized for the lowest impact to efficiency. We cannot afford to cater to each special case. ~~I now know exactly who these 'sensitive individuals' are.~~ I know you and the Elven apostate meet late at night to smoke up all the Elfroot. ~~Andraste's ass, you're a hypocrite and a liar, 'Herald'.~~ That is selfish and very unprofessional, we need that herb for healing potions and poultices.
> 
> And PS: For the record I was not bribing them to deliver my letters first. I was bribing them to make sure they were delivered at all. The last few never made it. Leave my personal life out of this, or yours is fair game. ~~Perhaps you should attend to _THAT_ \- it's not as if it looks like _YOUR_ duties are so taxing that you couldn't find someone willing to help you remove that stick up your ass.~~
> 
> Certified Apothecary to the Inquisition,  
>  -Elan Ve'mal

 

_An official letter written on thick pressed paper, in an overly ornate- almost illegible script addressed vaguely and left pinned to the garden door along with copies of damning letters written in a plain hand, marked as 'evidence'-_

> Certified Asshole to the Inquisition,
> 
> I do not prioritize my craft based on cutting corners. Any life accidentally harmed by our trade (and I say 'our' loosely as you do not seem to care for the people you treat) is one too many. We can, in fact, afford to cater to each special case, because _I_ say we can. The coffers that supply the garden are mine. The seeds that supply the garden are mine. I have spent years cultivating the strains I allow you to play with. And I know their unique properties better than you. If I say there is cause for concern, it is from experience.
> 
> I may not have some lofty certification from the Dalish, but that is because my 'certification' is that I remain alive to this day. If I was bad at what I do the cost would have been lives, not sovereigns.
> 
> You should know better, they should have taught you better. I will be looking into this ‘College’ of Herbalism and their questionable teachings.
> 
> Yes, Solas and I smoke. If you truly paid attention you would know we only harvest select leaves on a handful of plants. Leaves that are overwhelmingly useless in healing potions and poultices anyways. Only lazy herbalists grind up the entire plant. I would be remiss indeed if that was our only stock of Elfroot. There are in fact a large number of pots in my quarters set aside for healing potions only, well beyond the reach of your arrogant hands.
> 
> I am indeed a hypocrite, and occasionally an excellent liar but if you ever call me selfish again I will make sure you find yourself in need of not only a job, but an entirely new profession.
> 
> PS: Did you forget that our spymaster keeps copies of questionable correspondence? Attached are several letters 'certifying' your expertise in hypocrisy.
> 
> Also- That "stick up my ass" is what's keeping us all alive. Pray I don't decide to remove it.
> 
> -Inquisitor Lavellan

 

_A cleanly written letter from apothecary Elan Ve'Mal, directed only to the Inquisitor-_

> Inquisitor Lavellan,
> 
> I am not, as I am sure you now know and by several estimations of character, a 'nice person.' As they say: 'One must have a past to carve a future.' Do they say that? Perhaps I should clarify that I say that, and for my own reasons, I am still here, and I still wish to serve. I trust that you still see the value in that and would invest in protecting it, despite our differences.
> 
> Certain resources of mine are in the hands of another. Said person helped create my recipes. The value of my work is lessened if it is duplicated elsewhere. A matter I am certain concerns you as you have yet to share your recipes with me. It is not a matter of 'recovery' that I am interested in so much as a 'denial.' Who knows who might receive benefit of this brewing doppelganger? Given the location of this thief of my work, I hope you take this matter more seriously than our previous correspondence. Your enemies do not need the added edge. You are free to ignore this situation of course, but would it not be better for the resources of the Inquisition to be unique? If this person were simply _...gone?_
> 
> -Apothecary Elan Ve'mal

_The location of a freehold on the border of Tevinter follows, and the name 'Isthmus Goodson.'_

 

Ambassador Montilyet,  
_(And you too Leliana I know you read these)_

> Attached is a letter written from our 'certified' Apothecary-
> 
> I have no interest in making this man 'disappear'. Find his price or his weakness- or both. I will pay to have his service, just make sure our enemies have not employed his skills first.
> 
> Leliana- keep eyes on our 'apothecary'. I will not suffer someone in our employ who seeks to wield my influence to tie up their own loose ends. That said, I agree. We cannot afford to have our enemies so well supplied.
> 
> Though, if he's anything like she is....
> 
> -Inquisitor Lavellan

 

_A recently decoded note written in hasty shorthand-_

> Inquisitor,
> 
> We found Goodson. Thrilled to have caught our notice. The rumors were deliberate, but we were not alone in interest. Several Venatori now regret seeking him out. Contingent of scouts protecting fields. Apothecary agreed to the price. Harvest, transport, three weeks at most.
> 
> Considering violence on doorstep he agreed to come home.
> 
> -Scout Harding

_The following appended note is written in a more elegant hand-_

> Well done Inquisitor. It appears we have gained a valuable asset. Our resident Apothecary will be watched. She will not be happy about this turn of events, but we stand to benefit when they return.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> -L


	4. A first time for everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added out of order [2017/1/5] - New Chapter 4
> 
> Canon-prompt | Nadas'an's first use of magic
> 
> Solas has a habit of spying on the Inquisitor's memories and dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another /r/Dragonage Prompt: "The first time they tried to wield their weapon (or for mages, the first time they used their magic)."
> 
> Short - 590 words

**"Papa!"**

The small elf's short legs carried him with startling speed towards a tall robed man. The stark imposing stature of authority shifted as the man kneeled, flowing into a welcoming warmth as the young elf drew near- clasped hands outstretched.

A tangled mess of what looked like vines of light peeked out from those tiny elven hands. Had Solas not spied the previous segment of memory in which the small elf cast it- he would not have known it was in fact a rather _large_ spider-shaped magelight.

He watched a familiar broad smile spread across the tanned face of the man he didn't know. The long dark red hair, the careworn lines of many smiles, the sea of freckles- _The resemblance was unmistakable._

"What is this _da'len?"_   The hint of a smile grew in the older elf's voice, "Why the rush?"

The small elf spoke in a hurry, words tumbling out of order in the child's sprint to explain.

"She said you would have to have another child, that I'm broken. That you wouldn't love me anymore. I -I just wanted to scare Laeninan. But it's _not_ _finished!_ She said I would be without magic, that I couldn't be keeper like you. I didn't _mean_ to- but she's wrong!" The young elf shrank further inward, tentatively opening clasped hands as the bright light within flared to it's unfettered size, "It was s'posed to be a surprise..."

"A surprise? _Oh?_   Howcome?" The tone in the man's voice, curved around a stifled smile suggested this secret use of magic was anything but unexpected.

"I wanted it to be good."

The older elf laughed, a deep rolling chuckle as he beheld the unconventional form for that particular spell.

 _" Magnifico!_ How can it fly though? Mage light works best when cast to hover above you."

The sudden crestfallen look was quickly replaced by determination. "Wait, _don't look._ I can fix it!"

The child waited impatiently for the old elf to close his eyes without peeking. The smile on the man's face couldn't be stifled as the smallest sliver of a golden gaze looked on regardless.

The small elf enthusiastically threw the magelight spider up in the air, face scrunched in focus as the spider grew small flitting wings. Wings that would normally be far too small for its sprawling form. "C'mon- _fly!"_   The light abruptly cooperated, arresting its fall with a struggle to maintain aloft. The child looked immensely proud of his work.

Solas smiled at the expectation as the tiny elf was drawn into a hug. The spell would float with a thought- wings or no, and _yet._..

 

* * *

 

They sat side by side on his couch in the silent rotunda, hours deep in quiet study. The inhabitants of Skyhold had long sought their rest. Not even the candles could keep up, slowly dying one by one. Solas fondly recalled the memory.

"Nadas? Could you cast some light?"

He glanced sidelong at the man, watching that familiar broad smile spread momentarily across his face.

But then it faltered, slipped into a look of loss he knew well.

After a quiet moment Nadas'an cast his spell.

Dozens of shapeless flitting orbs with tiny glowing wings filled the rotunda, casting a soft orange glow across the freckled face he watched. The smallest hint of a sad smile resurfaced as the tanned elf scanned the room.

Solas followed his gaze- a quiet chuckle leaving him as he spied a single bobbing light among the others that didn't _quite_ fit in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really flesh this out more, but it might actually end up in the retelling sooooo.... We'll see.


	5. You, me, the Qunari, the Tevinter, and the Antivan makes... Five?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is like finding a half-starved Antivan in the desert, sometimes the things you think you're good at surprise you and leave you for dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Here begins the 'companion' prompts-
> 
> Added out of order [4/26/18] New new chapter 5 
> 
> Nadas'an as a companion, his recruitment in the Western Approach.

They tensed at once. 

Of all the times they'd come across Scout Harding they'd never seen her so flustered, sprinting gracelessly up to meet them- _something must be horribly wrong in the Approach_. 

Weapons loosed from their bindings, metal and wood wisked on leather. The shifting sand fought the scout for every forceful step. They braced themselves for whatever horror chased her.

The shimmering heat of the desert divulged her form, whole, unscathed. Recognition widened her eyes as she began to wave frantically. Calling out as she closed the distance, "Inquisitor! No- it's not like _that!_ I just..." she stopped short before them, hands on her knees, doubled over to catch her breath. 

Dorian and the Inquisitor exchanged mild looks of confusion while Iron Bull looked on impassive, letting his battle axe slide back into its harness with a grunt. 

Solas drummed his fingers against the charged wood of his staff, finally letting the wards go silent with a thought. 

It seemed they were in no immediate danger- then why the need for such haste?

"Scout Harding...?" 

Vin'ras Lavellan was a calm man, more placid than most of his kin, though he was anything but what Solas had expected. The clan name he kept was the most and almost the only Dalish thing about him. Their Herald had been an orphaned elf raised by human savages, these so called Avvar. Instead of brash, blood-hungry and wanton for war- the man was practically a priest, a wealth of calm even in battle. At the elf's reassuring measured tone, Scout Harding straightened up, still breathless as a dark lithe figure turned the bend in the road. The sheer wall of heated air masking his appearance. 

"Inquisitor, I am glad you're finally here. There's a man, an _elf_ , who REALLY wants to meet you."

 _"Oh?"_

They all peered in unison towards the approaching figure. The leisurely loping gait still remained the only discernible feature. Though, he instantly recognized the brand of pride that paced those steps. He had once strode the world and more like that. 

_It set his teeth on edge._

"Yes, well we found him unconscious in the desert. Half-dead and about to be eaten by hyenas. We dragged him back to the forward outpost, and nursed him back to health. And well... he's talkative. I don't think he's a threat but he's evasive with his answers-" she laughed breathlessly, "and he also won't leave." 

The Inquisitor grew puzzled, Dorian laughed openly. "Looks like you have an admirer! Even here!"

"Not a threat? Then what is he doing out here? There should only be Venatori and Grey wardens, and well... _us."_

Harding gave an exasperated shrug as the man in question halted out of earshot several yards away, hands resting on his hips. A pair of daggers glinting in the sun snagged his attention- holstered in plain view on either side of his chest. "He claims he was out here looking for a mind-altering cactus. I'm not sure why he would need to be so heavily armed for that."

"Is ...there anything else you can tell me about him?"

Harding laughed openly, "More than you probably want to know. But he appears to be a Mage and a Dalish one at that. Stop by the camp when you're done with him and I'll brief you on everything else." She turned to go, shaking her head with a slight bow, "Good luck Inquisitor, he's an odd one." 

 

They watched the tired scout skirt a large arc around the elf who lingered. Some unheard comment had Harding tossing her hands up as the man who made it laughed openly, then sauntered to approach.

Pleasantries passed into a shifting current of words. Solas let them slip by him, intently watching for the truth in the strange elf’s expressions, his eyes instead. The man was taller than the Inquisitor and far darker, freckled with a light sunburn. Sharp golden eyes occasionally flicked his way, no more distracting than the snap of hot dry air that caught and pulled at the elf’s vibrant red hair, yet just as flashy. There was honesty amid the ostentatious, veiled in the act that was the elf. It did not feel of deceit. The pridefulness the elf had exuded from afar was quieter somehow in proximity.

The Antivan leaned in abruptly, bringing him back to alertness. He appeared to be scrutinizing the Inquisitor's unique choice in armor. A swift hand reached out before they even had time to flinch.

"Is that... _Mud?_ Oh and that's definitely your nipple, sorry I wasn't aiming for that, it's just, well... _Fascinating_ , does that actually provide any protection? Not your nipples of course, I mean the mud- or is that paint? What clan are you from that had such strange customs?"

The elf continued to talk _at_ the Inquisitor, rambling in rapid words spiced in a tongue he'd only heard in comparably recent memories in the Fade. It was clear the man hailed from the north, in the region that was now largely barren desert surrounding the lone sanctuary of green that was once the gateway to Arlathan. 

Though he knew the land the elf hailed from was a dangerous one- ruled by cunning and deception, part of it called to him, captured his interest. The cruelty that often accompanied what he saw kept him away. Even so, it did not appear that the man was a threat. 

Solas’ gaze lingered as the Antivan finally made his offer. 

"Why am I here? I am an herbalist, an apothecary. I was merely looking to replenish a certain plant indigenous only to my homeland. I did, however, hear that a variety very close to what I seek exists here. And here was closer." The elf shifted, gaze fleetingly meeting his own before settling back on the Herald. "Unless of course you wish to know why it is I paused my quest to stand before you now?"

An ostentatious bow swept through the tanned elf's limbs. He found the gesture ridiculous.

"I wish to join your Inquisition of course. You are saving the world, yes? I would gladly be of service, I rather enjoy living." The Antivan paused briefly, continuing with a rare tone of sincerity, “A state of being I very much owe your Inquisition for… allow me to repay it.”

Vin'ras finally spoke with measured uncertain words, "If you like living perhaps you should reconsider. And we already have an apothecary, two in fa-"

"I am better."

Dorian laughed. The Antivan flashed a quick smile but did not stand from the lingering bow. Iron Bull was ill at ease. He huffed, "I don't know about this one Boss." 

Solas agreed silently, but Vin'ras turned to him all the same, looking for a voiced opinion as usual. So he considered the still supplicated man in earnest.

The strange elf was lying about something more than just the equally strange name he bore. _Nadas’an_ … Had the elves fallen so far as to name its people for places? Perhaps so much knowledge of his language had been lost that they no longer knew the meaning. He quelled that thought for the moment, refocusing on the task at hand. The elf’s facade had cracks, the demeanor bore signs of being forced. Yet none of it felt like a threat. It was the familiar weight of armor, protection, some defense... but against what? He could not deny his curiosity to be placed in the company of an actual Dalish elf, one that seemed to carry the perspective the Inquisitor lacked with his unique upbringing. The markings curled about his face, branches so faint they could easily be overlooked did not lie. The Antivan might give him insight into the pale reflection of the people he'd so sorely wronged. 

_He needed all the information he could get_.

"Do what you think is right, Inquisitor. It would appear this man bears you no ill will. Surely we could put his talents to use."

The Inquisitor nodded once, turned back and blithely accepted the strange elf's offer, and only then did the man fully stand up. A loaded look shot his way quickly shifted into a suggestive wink that had him reconsidering his cautious curiosity. 

“You have made a wise choice if I may say so gracious Inquisitor.”

Solas wasn’t so sure wisdom had anything to do with it, but it was too late to recant his opinion for the moment. They would simply have to deal with what the elf had to offer until they returned to Skyhold.

Their new addition joked loudly all the way back to camp that an Antivan would be useful to have around for wandering the desert. Flippantly dismissing the fact he nearly died earlier in said desert. Promising fervently to share any cacti with special properties he found with the group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the soon to be one after next were/are mostly completed yet never posted, so I’m editing and finishing them. It seems fitting that the last thing I updated should be the first thing I add to, even though it’s not the updates people are looking for. I am going to slowly open this door to find my voice and hope it sounds the same, so there may be more of these odd prompt chapters while I do that and work on my other unfinished works. Hopefully I don’t get too ahead of myself. 
> 
> Either way- 
> 
> _I’m writing again_.
> 
> Oh boy did I miss this.


	6. Elfroot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added out of order [2016-12-15]
> 
> Nadas'an as a companion | Solas is curious about the additional properties of elfroot.
> 
> The one about the drug tags, elfroot, _high_ elves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because /r/Dragonage was talking about elfroot basically being weed and I've been meaning to write this one for a while now. Nadas'an has an affinity for plants with 'special' properties. 
> 
> What happens when an old elf gets high in an unfamiliar world.
> 
> I'm still working on the chapter that needs to come before this explaining just how Nadas'an was recruited.

Both Dorian and Iron Bull shared valid concern for the Inquisitor's life, and rather than let down their guard they doubled it. One or the other accompanied the marked man at all times- sharing the Herald's tent in the face of their new addition- This Antivan elf, Nadas'an. Almost without words it then fell to Solas to keep an eye on the potential assassin. It meant sharing his own tent, probing the elf for information, looking in on his dreams. Though that last was a secret kept to himself. He had wandered unseen through all their dreams from time to time in an attempt to know more of the world he had woken to and the pale reflections of people that populated it. The elf alone remained a mystery to him, more closely guarded than most. It was a challenge he reveled in.

And yet, this far the Antivan showed no signs of malice, seldom spoke in opposition, and spent most of their time at camp crafting new potions to replenish their stock. The obvious concern that the man might poison them all abated with the first night- Nadas'an tested each concoction on himself before sealing the bottles with cork and wax. It seemed the man was either acutely aware of his reputation, or was unusually thoughtful in his craft.

Either answer intrigued him- But that wasn't all.

Over the weeks spent in the desert and their approaching return to Skyhold, he had attempted to prod the man about the Dalish, with topics many of his kin considered sore- and yet the elf seemed to have no desire to argue with him. Fully expecting an ignorant shadow, a stubborn wild elf- Instead he found a rapt listener, a man who considered his stories with a blatant thoughtfulness, an elf who asked the right questions.

It had shocked him and quickly fueled his own selfish desire to know more.

Their constant companionship quickly became an accord, even in battle. The mage carried no staff- a smart choice for an elf wandering alone, let alone one gifted with magic. He admired the cunning in openly wearing blades, the warning they presented. It had worked so well it had fooled them all, a piece of the facade carefully crafted for survival. Yet, they were not simply for show. Nadas'an was adept with those twin blades- but without a stave to focus his magic the elf seldom cast. Nadas'an seemed to trust him at least so far as to have his back. A trust Solas found himself returning as those deftly wielded blades saved his- on more than one occasion.

The unspoken arrangement settled into comfortable companionship, and still he had many questions. Though, it had been some time since he considered the man any willing threat to them.

At least one mystery he hoped to solve this night.

 

_Sand and spice. Alone amidst it was something green, grass and elfroot. The tanned elf was an oasis._

It was the hint of smoke though, that drew him this night away from his tent and the promise of the Fade. The Antivan seemed reluctant to succumb to sleep without it most nights and he wondered why with a strength that bade him away from their campfire and the quiet thoughtful watch of the Inquisitor and Dorian. Though, if he was honest with himself- that hint of familiar smoke that clung to the strange elf upon his return brought back old memories, memories he had not dared to indulge in. There was too much else to occupy his dreams of late. _One night,_ he promised himself, _just once_ he would like to feel it again- If the elf was willing to share.

Even with hands cupped to conceal the telltale glow it was easy to find. A long intake that softly illuminated the man's aquiline face filtered between the close set living pillars- A slow heartbeat in the dark. And even as quiet as his sure steps were- Nadas'an announced his approach after a muffled cough.

"Why, Solas- What brings you out here? Surely it's not my watch tonight?"

He smirked while the elf would still not see it, picking his way around the base of the tree where the Antivan lay stretched out. "I was curious to know what seems to draw you away at night."

The elf chuckled quietly, a slightly giddy noise. Good, then Nadas'an was already well within it. Perhaps he could coax the subversive man to open up while under such influence.

Solas settled down cross-legged on a moss covered stone while Nadas'an watched. The rolled leaf balanced between deft fingers, the small glow trailing a slight gesture. "Oh? Have you never? I'll admit, it seems far less common this far south than I expected."

Now he truly needed to restrain himself from laughing, masking his mirth behind an easy lighthearted half-truth. "What is it exactly? I am not familiar with such."

Nadas'an chuckled before another slow intake, but it was the indulgent sound that followed that momentarily derailed his thoughts. He waited while the elf shifted to sit up, exhaling a slow measured breath between them. Breathing in the visible twisting mist automatically with a sigh- he easily ignored the intimacy of such an act for the small taste.

"It's just elfroot. The leaves themselves are largely useless in healing- the stem and the root are the most efficacious. It seems a waste does it not?" Agreeing required little effort, and the elf continued while rummaging through a small leather pouch at his hip. "It's very common in Antiva, whole houses dedicated to perfecting the art, selling the experience. It's not harmful, but it can be strange. It is calming... occasionally an eye-opening experience. It helps clear my mind." The elf produced a neatly packed, slender rolled leaf, offering it up, "Are you interested?"

Solas allowed a light chuckle as he reached for the herb. "I am curious." He was indeed, but not in the way the Antivan would expect, wondering instead if the potency had been lost to the ages with his people and their magic.

He lit the leaf with the barest spell, brought it to his lips while the elf watched expectant and slowly inhaled. "Good, now hold it-" the smoke settled deep in his lungs and he held it as his eyes fluttered shut, slowly letting the laced breath leave him in a slight cloud. And then he ruined his grace with a cough, and one cough begot another- violently. The Antivan shook with a rolling mirth, nearly drowning out his embarrassment and his curses as he fought to quell the sting. 

Perhaps it had been too long.

"The first time takes getting used to. Sorry, I should have warned you."

A brilliant honest smile met his gaze when he recovered, and it thoroughly disarmed him. The elf seldom smiled like that around the others, only when he thought no one was watching. It only punctuated his own dishonesty, but it was not enough to steal the strange comfort he felt- far too soon to be attributed to the herb.

They smoked quietly for a time as the Antivan freely whispered small insights that painted a greater picture of the man- Half high musings of the world, half serious introspection. His opinion of the elf slowly changed with the tale. The man was not the weapons he so easily brandished, but a poet at times- a scholar in others. The shift was fascinating.

The beginning of the high rose almost unnoticed in his mind as Nadas'an explained his work to cultivate better strains for both healing and the smoke- including a strain that could be burned as incense to promote recovery. 

It genuinely impressed him.

By the time the effects of the herb had hit him completely he was far too gone to stop it. Those sharp golden eyes were beautifully captivating, nearly glowing with that quiet smile as the words were lost on him. The elf's quiet train of thought became a chorus of beautiful sound lapping at his mind while all around them the forest came alive in the night, singing its own sorrowful song. His body felt light and warm- perhaps he walked the Fade once more. The chill air couldn't touch him though he began to sweat. _He was a god here._ Twisting vines of smoke flowed between them and he remembered the prideful man.

 

The sky stretched sinuously above him, mottled in shaded patchwork, the stars beckoned beyond the canopy, called to him. He longed for their eternal rest. Laid out on his back before that dark canvas he felt bared. His slow measured breaths marked the beginning and end of fleeting lives, his heart beat with the march of time. His company had grown silent, but the silence wasn't god here. Old words, lyrical, spilled from his lips unbidden- words that held power once- Words that grew with echoes far reaching and wild. He felt his body sink into the earth, he felt himself become the world.

"Oh, _Maldición_ -" A light laugh left him at the nonsensical word, the pressure of a warm hand on his chest brought him back to those twin glowing suns arched high above him- The only warmth in the sea of cold lights. It was the only concern that existed among a canvas of indifference.

 _"Solas?_ Are you...?"

He spoke with unerring confidence, _"I am."_

The elf chuckled, "Yes, yes you are. I should get you back to the tent."

"I am a god here, not the tent. I should remain. The people need me."

A soft snort preceded hands hooking beneath his arms, hauling his unwilling leaden form to sit. How could the elf so easily lift the world? Perhaps he too was a god. _Yes,_ he decided- _the sky,_ this man was the god of the sky. Mated opposites, the land and sky- _yes_ , this man would be _his_.

They were standing, _tall_ , far above the world and the towering trees were mere saplings in their shadows. The sky held him gently, guiding him towards the dawn on the horizon. He trusted the sky to lead him, _yes_. The sky marred by rifts, his veil cast across it, but beyond- a beautiful tanned warmth that soaked into his soul. More old words flowed from his lips as he professed his love to the sky. Time paused around them as those gilded lights fixed on him once more, gazing into his eyes. He craved their light. A quiet expression opened before him- words that fell short of his hearing... too far, he needed to bring the sky closer.

The sky obliged his guidance, its words were foreign- but strangely reassuring, a broken language in which he caught only a handful of familiar words but the intent rang clear filling his heart with joy.

 _The sky loved him._ Even after all he had done to it.

He was led to the dawn, brightly burning far below, and then it blossomed into day fighting back the night. A small elf drew his notice on the shores of its light, small but marked. Yes, that elf carried his favor, but that was not important, not yet. It was the strength of the sky that called him now. His was the work of gods, mortals would wait. He followed the warmth into the close walls of night, allowed himself to be drawn down from their heights. The sky drew away from him and he mourned the loss, but then... the tanned god returned with a gift. Cool water pressed to his lips, life-giving rain. He drank reverently, allowed such a gift to fill him, to flood his being.

 _Yes,_ he thought, _this dance was familiar._ An exchange of gifts- He needed to give one in return. The vessel of water was withdrawn, and yet the sky returned once more. He knew what he must do. The sky must be freed.

The tanned god hesitated before his guidance at first, but he reassured his mate. He would not hurt the sky further. The sky drew close, worry written plainly across that beautiful face. That face marred by marks that didn't belong. No, not on ones such as they. The old words rose in his throat freely, a light of his own reached into the stars, unbinding their burden. No one would subjugate his heart.

A soft breath of wind followed the fall, the sky drawn into his embrace. Freed and his.

Blissful rest claimed them at last.

 

Solas awoke to the sudden absence of a heated form, his own leaden but far more rested than usual. He blinked back sleep more easily, resisting the lingering call of the Fade to play the part of the sagacious apostate once more. Echoes of strange dreams and old memories came flooding back as he rubbed his eyes. There would be time to dwell on their meanings once they set off on the monotony of the road. A long indulgent stretch flowed through him before he would entertain serious thoughts of rousing from his bedroll.

"S-solas?"

His eyes flew open at the tone of his name, almost tinged in fear- a sound that stabbed at him with the sharp blades of panic. Rolling to behold the man who named him such, he found Nadas'an peering wide-eyed into the small bowl they used for washing away the fog of sleep. There was no need to see the reflection within to know what concerned the elf- the pale markings, the faint branches of Mythal so light they could easily be overlooked-

_-Were gone without a trace._

Memories too bright to be old came to him, the words spoken- ‘gifts’ exchanged. Embarrassment and guilt would have to wait- he had freed Nadas'an without explanation, and the Antivan was now staring at him with a deep-rooted concern.

"I... I can explain-"

Nadas'an held up a hand to stop him before briefly running it down a face now bared. Deft fingers traced where slightly raised lines used to lie. The gesture carried a finality, a small somber thing and then his gaze was held again with the rare strain of severity.

"What did you free me from?"

His breath caught abruptly in his chest. That was not a question he had expected... just how much had the man understood of what had passed his lips? Embarrassment threatened to overwhelm him once more- other words floated to the surface, intimate words that should not have been said. It seemed he had his answer- The answer in his cynicism he had not truly considered a risk. Elfroot had not lost its potency. It was in fact far stronger than he remembered.

Nothing but the unfortunate truth would suffice.

"The vallaslin... they were slave markings. Those you consider gods branded their servants in such a manner, marked for service and worse, willing or not."

Nadas'an rose slowly, visibly shaken. His face veiled behind the curtain of long red hair. The elf was poised to flee their tent, and despite the pit forming with sickening unease in his gut, he could not blame him.

"I- I need time to think. I hope you understand."

All he managed was a nod that went unseen, his words dried up on his tongue- Suddenly parched in spite of last night's gift as the elf finally escaped beyond his reach.

He could not help but feel as though he had lost something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have to edit the subsequent chapters to accommodate this now? Maybe.
> 
> I couldn't resist flipping scripts like tables. I hope I don't regret posting this so soon, I likely missed a bunch of errors.
> 
> There will also likely be a new chapter added after this dealing with the aftermath, and their return to Skyhold.


	7. Gift of Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added out of order [4/27/18]
> 
> Nadas'an as a companion | the aftermath of 'Elfroot'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More high elves, sorta facing consequences, awkward 'can't express my actual emotions' dance. 
> 
> It seems the wiki I used to use for elven words has been heavily edited since I last looked... half the words familiar to me are there no longer.

They stared after him as though he'd bolted naked from the tent he shared with Solas. In a manner he supposed he had, though he was certain none of the others had yet discerned the reason for his flight.

It was only when he had disappeared into the edge of wood that ringed the clearing they camped in did he allow himself to stop. The small impressions that lingered in the moss at his feet brought on the desire to flee further- but this was where the events of last night had started and running would get him nothing.

He sank down on his heels, replaying what he could remember in his mind, staring blankly at the memories imprinted on the soft ground.

It had been a pleasant buzz, and an even more pleasant experience- he had come to truly enjoy Solas' company. The elf had been tasked with keeping an eye on him, that much he was sure of, yet... he was fond of the man. Solas was such valuable a wealth of wisdom when not trying to get under his skin, and now it seemed at last the elf had succeeded. 

Had the thought not left such a hollow pit in his stomach he would have laughed.

There was no going back, that was perhaps the only thing he knew without asking. Sighing deeply, sinking further to sit fully on the damp moss- he curled inward. No, there was no going back from any of it. Not from such confessions, regardless whether the elf had meant them or not- and not from what had openly marked him as... no not free... Nadas'an let himself fall back to lay on the ground. Not from what openly marked him as misguided. 

It had not escaped his notice that according to Solas' short explanation- he had been even more misguided than that. The words lingered in his mind like a white-hot brand 'those you consider gods'. Then Solas knew something of that too? That his gods were not gods at all? 

And yet... last night the man had called himself a god. Was it merely the high? 

It would have been easy to write off everything the elf said as nothing but the high- but for the small truths that didn't add up. He cradled his naked face in his hands- There were no answers to be had here, only more questions, But he was far from ready to face the others, let alone Solas. 

He could not shake how rested he felt to have lain in the elf's arms, sharing his warmth. It was one thing he sorely missed in his solitary travels. It complicated things he was certain. Such companionship didn't bother him, in fact he welcomed it... but the elf. He had no idea where the man might stand on the matter. 

He did not even have a sufficient story to explain his bare face. Perhaps if he waited long enough Solas would deal with it? No, that would require the elf to divulge what happened without questions preceding it- and Solas had seemed as shaken as he felt. The elf that kept much closely guarded had allowed him to see more than he should have. It was always a risk with elfroot, it tended to lay deep truths bare... 

And it did for them both. 

Solas was far too fluent in a tongue that had been lost. Walking away now would cost him the answer. Wanderer or not, Fade Walker or not- the mantle of keeper that awaited his now uncertain return demanded he find out more. 

Nadas'an rose stiffly, chilled and craving the warmth of fire and food. 

_He would just have to see where this led._

 

Solas took a deep breath to calm his thoughts. The Antivan was a wildcard at the best of times... but at the worst? He had no way of knowing what the elf's reaction would be upon his return. He feared the potential accusation- that he had taken the man's identity, even misguided as it was, without explicit permission, and it was true. But he could not afford losing the confidence of the Inquisitor, not while the man bore the mark.

Guilt soured his stomach at the thought. Was he truly about to destroy the tanned elf in front of them all? The same man he had shared a unique experience with- simply for his own mistake?

Perhaps the elf would be reasonable, perhaps he would just need to see what path the elf would choose. Solas rose with all the calm he could conjure and stepped out to join the others. 

The tent flap fell behind him as he took a deep breath of bracing morning air only to catch the twinned golden eyes of the Antivan fixed firmly on him. The elf had just stepped into the clearing opposite him, outwardly calm though frozen mid-step. They shared a tense moment before the elf quickly looked away, drawn closer to the fire, ignoring the confused looks they were now garnering from the others. 

He followed, settling down as the Inquisitor passed around the leftover stew from last night. 

"Nadas'an?" He willed himself not to look up as the Inquisitor spoke softly to the other elf. 

"Yes, Inquisitor?" 

"What happened to your vallaslin?" 

A quiet breath was sucked in between clenched teeth, an involuntary wince audible over the crackling fire- vague notes of a sharp pain. He looked up to see Nadas'an drowning his discomfort in his breakfast while the others looked on with redoubled interest.

Dorian scoffed, "A fake then? _Paint?_ To what end?" 

Iron Bull sat silent, scrutinizing the Antivan. Solas felt the accusations building upon the new mistrust of Nadas'an's uncharacteristic silence. The tension in the air mounted as such he was certain the elf would snap and betray him, their shared experience, his confessions. He bristled slightly ready to go on the offensive once the elf succumbed to the easy way out- _blame_. After a moment the man answered quietly, dismantling all his expectations.

"It was not a fake, no. But it is gone all the same."

Vin'ras carried on thoughtfully, "How's it gone? You had it last night when you carried Solas to bed." 

At the mention of his name, the collective attention of the others shifted to him although Nadas'an's eyes remained resolutely fixed on the bowl in his hands. 

"He carried you to bed? Oh? My now that is _scandalous._ " 

Iron Bull laughed. 

"Yes, they seemed in-toxi-cated. You missed it when you went to piss." Vin'ras was now the only one still chuckling at the situation. The talk of two of their number off in the forest at night, intoxicated, especially him with a man they did not yet trust sobered the others. The Inquisitor was unknowingly digging the Antivan's grave, unaware of the gravity of the situation. 

Nadas'an looked poised to flee, the normally languid movements of the rogue became stiff and halting. Iron Bull noticed. 

He found he couldn't let it continue, opening his mouth before the Qunari got the chance. 

"The fault is mine. Do not blame Nadas'an. I asked to join him, and I underestimated the potency of what he indulges in." 

The prickling unease of their eyes settled across his skin once more. It was only the refreshing mouthful of water that was the openly shocked gaze of Nadas'an that kept him speaking.

"I took his vallaslin. It was a gift, though perhaps an ill-considered one." 

The breath the tanned elf had been holding left in a quiet rush, stiff shoulders released their burden. The man cast a much smaller silhouette, distinctly vulnerable. He would not apologize in front of the others, hoping his held gaze conveyed the words he would not say. Later, if they managed a moment alone he would make amends for what he had done. 

It was just as well, Vin'ras became a wealth of questions as did Dorian, though much more rudely. He shouldered the burden of that bare face, vaguely sating the need to know that surrounded him on all sides. Nadas’an had not taken the easy way out of this, so for the moment, neither did he. 

 

_Why? Why? Why???_

The plea was all his mind could muster as the conductor of his predicament kept and held their attention from turning to hostility. Solas could have simply sat there indifferent and the others would have rid him of all his mistakes. His thoughts devolved into a twisting gale and all his efforts to grasp for comfort were cruelly rent from him as he spun. 

The Inquisitor’s renewed inquisitiveness was the only thing that grounded him once more.

Vin'ras sat before him, taking his face unasked into roughened hands, tracing the shadows of branches that lingered on the shaved sides of his hair. Following the gentle guidance he tilted his head as far as silently requested to allow the Inquisitor to continue the scrutiny. Though the lines etched into his skin were gone, the short hairs had not yet regrown amid his hairline. Irrefutable evidence of what had been scarred onto his face. He sat somewhat patiently, allowing the pale Inquisitor to examine him. 

"Was it just your face?" Brilliant blue eyes dipped to his collar and he sucked in a breath. He hadn't even thought to check elsewhere but the vallaslin had been branded over most of his body. He mechanically loosed the ties of his shirt, exposing his chest as he looked down. Unsurprised to find the pale lines there gone as well.

"Apparently not. I had them all over." 

Clinical hands opened his shirt wider as he stared at the campfire, towards the treeline, skyward, anywhere but at the probing eyes of their company- all but undressing him further. It was highly uncomfortable, Solas' most of all. Steady hands finally gave up their search of his bare skin and he promptly excused himself to tend to his borrowed horse. Hastening out of earshot of renewed questions, anything to get a moment to himself to bite back the sudden sting in his eyes. 

Straps fastened, tack adjusted, packed bags attached to the harness. The great black horse whickered softly as he finished, expecting his usual gift of sweet fruit cake from his pack. He absently obliged. It seemed at least he had one friend, however unlikely it was to come to his aid should he run out. The monotony of such a task had helped settle his nerves, but he wasn't sure how long it would last. Especially in the face of a day spent at Solas' side. 

_At least it seemed they would not be turning him away just yet._

 

The road was quieter than usual and his thoughts filled the void amid occasional questions shot his way from the Inquisitor. He answered as much as he dared, and eventually the warrior's attention was drawn back to the peacock mage, and his own back to his tumbling thoughts.

He'd liked those stupid lines. The way they curved around his calves, looped up over his thighs, teasing up the edges of his narrow hips, splayed across his chest and back. There had been some devotion to Mythal to be sure- but those lines had been beautiful, a painstaking work of art. A painful work of art, days it had taken holding back cries of pain to accept them. A mark that he had passed into adulthood... _a warm proud smile, eyes as golden as his crinkled at the edges._

It dawned on him why it pained him so.

They had been placed upon him by his father- and his father was gone. There was no going back.

Everything was stupid he decided. The road was stupid, the horses, everyone in his present company, even the ominous gathering of slate clouds. It was all stupid and he was a fool for offering his service to the Inquisition. _"Should have just continued on my way"_ , he grumbled darkly under his breath, ignoring the sidelong looks from the pale elf that rode at his left. 

He wanted desperately to be angrier at the quiet man at his side, wished he could yell and curse what had been taken from him. But all he knew of life was that it took, and took, and _took_. And yet, one thing nagged at him. Solas had called it a gift.

_Solas had given him something he still did not quite understand._

 

That night Nadas'an retired early to their tent without the usual indulgence. Solas had expected it, especially after the additional scrutiny the elf had been under the entire day of travel. Nadas had kept pace with him as usual, but their time spent side by side had been bereft of the thoughtful conversation he had come to enjoy. He longed to remedy it, though he reasoned the elf might not welcome his attempt so soon. Still, once his watch ended he hesitated retiring to the tent, worried that without the smoke the elf might still be awake. 

It was a small relief to slip inside the canvas flap, the air within the tent was slightly warmer than the chill night air. They were now well onto the western shoulder of the frostbacks, it would only get colder from here. A slight spell heated it further as he undressed. The quiet rustle of furs preceded the Antivan rolling over to face away. He paused before slipping into his own bedroll, venturing to call the man quietly in case the shift was unconscious. 

"Nadas'an?" 

"....Yes."

"You are still awake."

"I am."

Nearly inaudible breaths were traded in the stillness as he allowed a small lull to gather his thoughts. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

It being the most obvious thing that lay between them, but perhaps if what he remembered bore merit... not the only thing. Nadas'an rolled back over to face him. In the muted light filtering through the canvas he caught a gilded gaze warily fixed on him. "Which part?"

"Whichever part is bothering you."

A pale imitation of a chuckle left the elf, and after a moment asked, "You said it was a gift. _Why?"_

He sighed lightly, it was almost a relief that the Antivan would first ask about that. The tone in the man’s voice, however, would have been enough for him to roll his eyes had he not been aware that the man often resorted to humor when he wished to avoid serious conversation. He could already almost hear the elf’s next likely remark- _'curious that you give by taking, did you see that in the fade too?'_ \- a dozen imagined cutting remarks followed that thought. Yes, clearly Nadas'an was not ready to talk about it. He would just have to answer carefully to thwart the direction the elf would likely take. 

"I was attempting to court you. You had given me the gift of water- I assumed I should give you a gift in return. I chose poorly, _that_ was a gift that should not have been so lightly given.... despite its importance."

A soft gasp left the elf. It seemed his diversion worked. 

"You _what?_ ... you were... _courting_ me?"

"I was intoxicated Nadas'an. I would have courted anything."

" _Ah_... of… _naturally_." After a moment the elf refused to meet his gaze any longer and turned away once more. 

Perhaps his careful distraction had worked too well. He did not understand the lack of questions, surely the elf should have more? Yet none followed that swift turn away, and even though he waited until it was unwise to remain awake much longer, he knew the slow measured breaths were not those of the elf asleep.

When he awoke the next morning Nadas'an had already left the tent, and too late he realized he had still not apologized for what he'd done. Perhaps he would get another chance.

 

It was foolish, childish even but Solas’ dismissive words had hurt him all the same. The momentary lift had quickly become a cutting fall, of course the man had no true interest. It stung disproportionately as much as the absent apology. Did the elf not realize what he had done? That he might not be able to return to his clan? There was no known precedent for a marked elf returning unmarked, and though his clan had accepted unmarked city elves into their arms- he was the Keeper's son. He was meant to remember... not to lose. 

Shivering as the first few flakes began to fall, he pulled the heavy hooded cloak from his pack before settling in at the fireside. His gaze was drawn ever upward at the looming spires of stone and ice, draping the thick fur-lined fabric over his shoulders. These people were either exceedingly crazy or incredibly smart for keeping their base where no one in their right mind should ever wish to go.

 

The ride was a quiet one, it seemed they were now into the well-travelled paths of the Inquisition. No strange glowing rifts, no bandits or mercenaries, just the increasing presence of scouts and soldiers on the road. The Qunari and the human traded cutting words while the pale Inquisitor laughed slightly hysterically between them. Solas rode silent at his side. His thoughts nagged loudly at the strange elf. It still took several hours before he felt brave enough to quietly ask while the others were distracted.

"They're not gods are they?"

Solas cast him a look of mild surprise, and he wasn't sure if it was the question itself or his choice to finally speak. 

Many moments passed before the mage answered, "No, they were not. They styled themselves as such. Power lies where the powerless believe it lies. Nothing more." 

"And you saw this in the Fade?" He tried and failed to keep the skepticism from his tone. The elf noticed. 

"In a manner of speaking... yes."

He eyed the man with suspicion, and a surprisingly unguarded grey gaze stared back. The dismissal did not feel like a lie, but a careful truth. Unsure if he should attempt to press for a better answer he let it go for now. 

It seemed the pale elf trusted him... with what he wasn't yet sure. Perhaps... his fledgling trust in the man wasn't so misguided. Perhaps the gift had not been meant to hurt him. He got the distinct feeling that Solas was protecting _something_. 

He was very curious as to what that something might be. 

 

The spires of rock above them were crowned in heavy grey clouds. An unseasonal snow was falling more heavily the further they went into the ascent to Skyhold. It was that which bade the Inquisitor to decide to camp early at one of the forward outposts. There were enough soldiers stationed here on a regular basis that they were able to sleep in two of the many small newly made cabins rather than tents. It came as no surprise too Solas when the arrangements were assigned that Nadas'an was still bunked with him. 

The tanned elf had sat down briefly with the Inquisitor to write a report to the spymaster. True to Harding's words the elf had cooperated with more than they would ever need to know- Chatting animatedly about everything and nothing in that rich accent long after the first small raven note had been filled. Vin'ras dutifully filled five more though it looked as though no birds would fly this night.

It surprised him that before the meeting was adjourned the elf asked the Inquisitor if it was alright to indulge in the herb, protected as they were. The Inquisitor nodded with a request of his own- that once they reached Skyhold if the advisors deemed him safe, Vin'ras would like to try it as well. 

The Antivan smiled and seemed himself for the first time in days, leaving with a slightly less ostentatious bow. 

He lingered behind in quiet thought for a few moments to put some space between them. The opportunity presented itself again to indulge... but after the last time would the elf be willing to share? He would not be surprised if the elf turned him down, but then... it didn't seem like it would be in the Antivan's nature to do so. But should he ask? After all what he had done last time crossed several lines... to partake again, even for the memory- the sensation- he would need to be prepared to cross more.

Solas took a deep breath, already knowing the answer before following the man to their cabin.

 

The cabin was a shockingly warm contrast to the blowing snow outside, a fire already roaring in the small hearth. It seemed the Antivan had wasted no time getting it going. If one thing was certain, it was that the elf truly abhorred being cold. A quick glance at the room was all that was needed to take in everything. A tight space for two people, largely overwhelmed by crates. Two small rough hewn beds sat side by side. Someone had pushed them together to afford more space for stored equipment along the walls, or perhaps other reasons. He dropped his pack on one of the many wooden crates stacked neatly next to the beds, settling in, unrolling his furs atop one of them, taking the liberty to unroll The Antivan's as well. Nadas'an sat quietly, perched on a row of boxes beneath the small glass window. The Elf was rolling new smokes to replenish his stock, and try as he might to keep himself busy he found himself watching deft fingers rolling packed leaves. 

He had not made a sound in several minutes, settled inadvertently on the edge of the bed to watch the Antivan work. The length of quiet inevitably caused the tanned elf to look up from his crafting. 

That precise golden gaze seemed to know exactly what it was he wanted. No judgement surfaced on that thoughtful face, freckles unmarred by lines of anger or concern. Nadas'an simply looked back to the supplies arrayed on the crate, considering a moment before continuing rolling a slightly longer leaf. 

When it was finished Nadas'an cracked the window at his elbow, then turned to pick up his gaze once more, eyebrow cocked. Wordlessly the tanned elf offered up the rolled smoke.

It was his turn to angle a brow, "Do you not worry what I may do?"

After a long assessing stare Nadas shook his head. "So long as you don't go running naked from the cabin, no." The elf chuckled quietly, "I do not wish to chase after you in that cold. _Hmmmn_." A long finger tapped to chin thoughtfully, "Though, if I wake up to find you've shaved my head I will be rather cross and will _never_ forgive you." A brilliant smile surfaced between words, "Besides I think it may be best if we did not smoke as much as last time. Share with me?"

He felt a quiet smile reach his eyes with his assent. 

 

Nadas'an lit the leaf with a small fire spell, balanced it between his lips and took a long drag before handing it over. The sweet fragrance of the smoke stained his sense of smell, the weight of it in his held breath was like being home if only for an instant. Reveling in the small connection to the past, he exhaled toward the open window as the pale elf inhaled. A few quiet repetitions and it wasn't long before the giddy high began to creep upon him. Suddenly his problems felt so insignificant, his bare face, the question of his official companionship, his supposedly false gods... none of it bore the weight it had as he settled into calm. The leaf was languidly passed back to him, slightly damp as he brought it to his lips. His heart skipped a beat as his mind ran away with such secondhand sharing- Unwisely wondering what it's source might taste of. He became aware that Solas gazed at him quietly, a blatant longing ...some subtle fascination as the man stared. The blush was unbidden and something he was certain he hadn't succumbed to in many years... yet underneath that nakedly intimate gaze, how could he not?

He fought to keep his curiosity under control. It had crossed his mind several times that it would be easy to take advantage of Solas in such a state to get at the answers he desired. But the man had come to his rescue on more than one occasion... it would have been a breach of the odd level of trust he felt the elf had placed in him. It was remarkable that the elf trusted him at all to succumb to his care in such an inebriated state. Besides, he could not deny the substantial amusement he felt to see the stuffy elf unwind so thoroughly- even if it meant he was temporarily referred to as the man's lover. At least his own indulgence of the herb helped sooth that particular sting. 

Firelight danced for him in those beautiful eyes that were now silently begging him for something. Yes, none of his worries were important- there were pale freckles that were begging to be counted.

 

The tanned god wore a mantle of fur. A river of ice from the tiny hinged eluvian cut a swath between the earth and the sky. He trembled before it, gazing longingly at the warmth of the sky opposite the river he did not yet dare tread. Wishing quietly to share a brief embrace with the one he had freed. It seemed far more important than acknowledging that the eluvian should not yet be opened. He'd sealed them all away... but the sky... _it had needed to be freed._

The danger had to be worth it. It _needed_ to be.

He spoke quietly, a whisper as bared as he felt before that golden gaze, _"Was it a mistake?"_ Desperation tinted his tone as he continued in hushed lyrical ancient words. _"You needed to be freed, no matter the cost. I could not let you remain trapped. I could not bear to let you remain enslaved. The way is open, they would have used you against your will. You are too important, my heart, I could not let that happen to you."_

He watched full lips answer in that foreign tongue, the hint of which occasionally caught between brilliant teeth. He strained to understand as the sky tried again in more familiar words. 

_"I was without understanding, in your action. Your words are nothing... no, not nothing- your words are lost to time... forgotten to me. I feel them but I do not call them kin."_ The sky sighed in frustration as he looked on expectantly. _"You erred not, Pride. I am with hope, was with hope that you... sought to gain knowledge... sought to... to ask me... one... first. I wish you asked me first."_

He gathered his will and reached out briefly touching the face of the sky, braving the icy river to caress the sea of stars unbound. _"Ir abelas, vhenan. Ma tarasyl'vhen."_

The sky briefly leaned into his touch and then reached out and closed the eluvian, the barrier between them vanished. A small warm smile preceded the embrace he had longed for. He whispered soft words of praise to the god that gently guided him. Words that grew more familiar drifted from smiling lips as he leaned on the sky, drawn closer to the warmth as he was led away. A familiar soft field slowed his descent, enveloped him, but then the sky left him again and he cried out in anguish- he could not lose his heart, not now. Cries were swiftly answered- A soft sigh of a breeze brought the sky back to him, he threaded his fingers through the crimson sunset cascading down the tanned god's back- guiding the sky back to him. His horizons were meant for the sky to embrace, he needed...

_"Solas..."_

"Vhenan."

A quiet breath drew him in closer- Embracing the sky as it stilled in his arms. He gazed fondly into the twin suns that glowed softly at him. 

"Solas, you are not yourself. You may regret this later."

He shook his head, _"No, I am more myself than I have ever been. Stay with me, please."_

The radiant god of the sky relented. The embrace that warmed him was slowly returned, muscled arms wove around his back. The sky opened the way to its heart and he lost himself in the quiet beat, the measured rush of air as the sky rose and fell in unfettered waves. It had not been a mistake. Amidst the relief that washed over him and with such simple sounds of comfort he was drawn into the night at last. 

 

Solas awoke abruptly, feeling distinctly alone and chilled... as though a great source of warmth had suddenly left him. It was jarring, as if he'd only just woken to the cold existence of his consequences. Grasping the furs around him he rolled and burrowed deeper, reaching even further for the Fade once more to avoid facing the stark colorless reality he had woken to again. 

When Solas woke again to a pale sunrise filtering through the small window his gaze fell instead upon a different sky. A long river of vibrant crimson hair cutting a direct path from him to the tanned elf that lay facing away. Without hesitation he reached out, gently weaving his fingers through the end of it. Too late he caught himself but the elf did not stir. It was _soft_ , flowing through his fingers like water as he withdrew. Briefly thankful he had indeed not shaved the elf's hair, but the implications of the trail of it... the absence of warmth he had felt now made sense. 

 

Nadas’an snapped awake to a hand on his shoulder, reaching reflexively for a dagger that wasn't there. "It is only me." That quiet sleep softened voice brought him down from the heights of panic. And as adrenaline faded, the memories of the previous night flooded in. 

Solas had apologized, but did the state they had been in diminish its meaning? His thoughts ran away, yet the hand remained. "Nadas?" 

A soft breath left him as he rolled to face Solas. The elf was still adorned in his sleeping furs, hints of bare skin peeking through. Attempting to blink back his own concerns in the face of such curious worry, he answered. "Yes Solas?" 

"Last night..."

"Did you mean it?"

"...I"  
"The apology."

A quiet flustered breath left the man as an unmistakable blush rose. 

“It would have been proper to ask first. _I_... Yes. I meant it."

It was a relief to hear it and his eyes shut momentarily with his sigh. One less thing that hurt him, he cautiously ventured to the next.

"You said... _I think_ , that they would have used me. _Enslaved me_. Is that true?"

Solas still looked worried, yet he could not tell the true source of it as the man gathered his careful answer. "The Evanuris often used their servants for their own selfish needs. It was not a kind fate." 

An unfamiliar word, much like the many that passed those lips last night. That Solas had answered him swiftly and simply without obfuscation gave him a small hope for the last pressing issue that weighed most on his mind.

“Are ...we okay Solas?”

“I do not see why we should not be.”

“That's not an answer.” 

“It is, merely one as vague as the question.”

He rolled his eyes, so much for that. Very well, if the elf wanted specifics... "This is now the second time you have not only begged to fall asleep in my arms, but called me a rather personal endearment." He sat up at the stunned silence, the hand finally withdrew. He swallowed the sting, turning away as he said what he needed. "It does not bother me to be called such. But if there is no true interest I would appreciate knowing soon." A quick steadying breath helped him keep the unexpected edge of a bite from his words. "You do not need to answer me this moment... I know you usually do not say much without great consideration." He slid off the bed, dressing in the predictable silence, refusing to look back as he wrapped himself in his heavy cloak. 

"I know my status with the Inquisition is still uncertain. I just do not wish be…” he sighed in exasperation. “Strung along." 

He paused by the door, waiting for the elf to say something... _anything_. His heart raced as he listened, why had Solas been straightforward about everything else? Was it his selfish interruption? What was the elf going to say about last night?

"There are, as you say, considerations...." 

His heart sank, and he was thankful only the door saw the look that must have surely crossed his face. "Of course. Take your time."

 

He hurried out the door without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably only raises more questions and begs a follow up chapter. That'll be a rabbit hole. Hopefully I don't regret the half-awake not-enough-coffee editing I've just stumbled through.
> 
> How the hell did I ramble for 5.5k words and then just never post it? Like... it even had proper quotes around dialog... I don't usually do that until I roll around to finishing editing. Who knows. I'm baffled. It's here now, and one less thing off my mind. For now at least.
> 
>    
>  _NEXT._


	8. That was for not asking first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadas'an as a companion | Sleep wandering leads to a first kiss.
> 
> The one about the Wine tags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly NSFW, suggestive but no smut.
> 
> [12/14/16: Added words/fixed weird sentence structures]

Solas woke drenched in sweat, overheating and the source of it quickly became apparent as he took in the arm thrown low over his waist, the soft snore in his ear. The Antivan was half naked, curled at his back, the furs of his bedroll thrown across them both, atop his own. It seemed Nadas'an had grown cold in the night. He wondered lightly how it was even possible, the man threw off so much heat he shouldn't ever be cold. Perhaps it was merely an excuse for closeness? Yet then again, he was sweating, and Nadas'an clearly wasn't.

It wasn't the first time he'd woken to the man next to him. None of them were strangers to Nadas'an's nightly wanderings, yet he'd never woken like this. The elf always rolled with his furs, coming to rest on top of his own, the blankets a barrier between them. That Nadas'an lay against him so closely, his furs laid carefully, showed deliberation.

He tried to extricate himself without waking the man, unsure of what reaction such wandering would garner. However, it seemed the Antivan wasn't content to let him go, arm tightening, face nuzzled deeper against his neck. He sighed, casting for ice as he trailed his fingers up the sleeping elf's arm.

Nadas'an woke with a _bang_ , leaping into the tent wall, nearly bringing the entire thing down around them, leaving the canvas walls dangerously crooked. The elf scrambled to sit up, disheveled, chest heaving as he attempted to discern his whereabouts. _"What the?_ _**What the hell was that?!"**_

Solas sat up languidly, rummaging for his waterskin, leveling the elf with a pointed look as he drank deep before he spoke. _"That-_ was for not asking first." He gestured to the pile of furs draped across his lap, "Unless you think I would believe that your bedroll made it on top of mine in your sleep?"

The man had enough grace to look embarrassed. "I... _No_. Sorry." Running a hand down his face as the crunch of snow outside grew louder, heralding the slight steps of the Inquisitor, a sliver of light falling across Nadas'an's features as the Herald peeked their head in. A gust of cold air flooded the small tent sending his sweat adorned skin awash in shivers. "Everything alright in here?"

He nodded sedately, forcibly quelling the cold, "It is fine. Nadas'an simply had a nightmare."

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, briefly glancing at the chaotic mess of their furs, "Oh, I see." The marked man withdrew with his apologies for the intrusion, the sliver of light disappeared as they sat in semidarkness once more. Only the light of the campfire muted through the canvas illuminated the other man's disbelieving expression. Nadas'an lowered his voice to a whisper, "Why lie for me?"

 _Why had he lied for him?_ The excuse had rolled off his tongue without another thought. He brushed off the question, that would need to be considered _later,_ and at length _._ "Were you truly that cold?"

The elf nodded slowly. "I... did not expect to embrace you, I am sorry. When I fell asleep I was as far from you as I could manage. With both furs I thought it would be enough for me to stay put." The elf shivered as if to punctuate his words. The chill of the mountain air was quickly becoming uncomfortable, somewhat bared as they were. A long sigh left him. He was going to regret this.

"Leave your bedroll off. It is too warm with both."

The elf donned a confused expression, "Are you suggesting...?"

"Yes. Do not make me regret it." He slid back under the covers casting off the extra furs towards the elf who still sat in shock. Folding them up with a slowness fed by disbelief before the cold seemed to hasten Nadas'an's effort. A brief unwelcome draft preceded the tentative elf slipping under the covers next to him, maintaining a respectful distance. He sighed lightly, accepting further responsibility for his increasingly likely regret, "I think we both know how we are likely to wake. I appreciate the thought, but you might as well come closer, Nadas'an."

"Are you sure? I truly do not wish to make you uncomfortable."

"If I was uncomfortable I would not have offered."

" _Oh_. Of ...of course." Nadas'an slid in closer, pressed at his back, an arm curling around him hesitantly. He sighed as the man settled in, let go of the tension the sudden contact of skin had provoked. The heat of the elf's fiery homeland coursing through his veins quickly dispelled the damp chill that had settled in his own skin.

He'd forgotten what it felt like, to be held in such a manner. It was comforting and it barely took any time at all for him to drop off into dreams once more.

* * *

As It turned out it was one thing he did not regret. The Antivan remained respectful night after night. The elf's furs laid down beneath them, arms wrapped loosely about him as they breathed in silence, in warmth. Nadas'an did not speak of their strange arrangement, and neither did he- Worried speaking of it would change it somehow. Yet... as they neared Skyhold a tension lay tangible between them. What would happen next? Was it just something they would do while away in the wilds? It would be perfectly reasonable to walk away from such closeness once behind those old walls. It would be easier to wrap himself up in his responsibilities once again. Why then did that prospect quicken his heart and shorten his breath?

 

They were the last two lingering by the stables, tending their harts long after their companions had trudged off. They were stalling, knowing full well Dennet was more than capable of managing. Solas finally gathered the courage to speak of it. "If you want..." Nadas'an met his gaze, a bright careful hopefulness shining in his eyes. He sighed lightly, a small smile surfacing at such naked eagerness. "You know where my room is?" The elf nodded, "Good. I normally retire just before midnight, however tonight I will turn in early. Sunset. _Sharp_." He grinned inwardly at the smile the other elf wore so well, try as the man might to stifle it.

 

He fretted about his room, pacing slightly, wondering if it had been a mistake to invite the man. His quarters were small but comfortable, more comfortable than wherever it was the elf likely slept. Though supposedly _that_ changed with the night. He wondered if the rumors were just that, Nadas'an had been nothing but a perfect gentleman with him once the sun went down.

His bed was big enough for two to lay comfortably without touching, tucked away in the far corner. A small dresser and desk occupied the wall next to the door, leaving the middle of the room to the modest hearth he'd already lit. The chill the stones had worked through everything in his absence was slowly receding. He busied himself straightening the books on the shelves opposite the fireplace. Wondering why he had to be so nervous. It was nothing, the things he'd done in his life... To be flustered over such companionship? It was silly. He wasn't some blushing maiden, this wasn't his first time. _Though_... He paused with the thought. It had been a very, _very_ long time.... And he had changed much. He sighed, settling down in his chair by the fire, reaching for the unfinished bottle of wine, pouring himself a glass. He sipped it slowly, wondering precisely what he'd gotten himself into this time.

The Antivan was more punctual than he'd ever seen him. A light knock had him leaping up from his chair, hastening to open his door to see that the sun had just slipped below the cloven valley pass between the mountain peaks. Nadas'an stood shivering at his doorstep, a heavy cloak drawn up around his shoulders, hood pulled low. Framed by the red-golden leaves of the garden in the dying light, the elf looked far more like some messenger bearing ill news than an unlikely bedmate.

He ushered the elf inside, closing the door with a dull thud, and after a moment's pause locked it quietly. The elf threw off his hood as he took in the room, and his shivering had a tangible excuse this time, the man had clearly just bathed. Dark red hair hung damp down the back of his neck, trailing below the collar of his cloak. He hadn't realized he'd been staring until the elf's molten eyes met his own, not so sharp... But soft. "Somehow I pictured more books, and walls covered in paint. But it's nice, I like it."

He chuckled lightly remembering his manners. "Please, make yourself comfortable." He gestured to the spare chair by the fire. It was worn, wooden, and not nearly as comfortable as the threadbare cushioned chair he favored, but the elf looked as though he'd just been given the most precious thing in the world.

He strode back to the fire and settled back in his chair, watching idly as the Antivan slowly removed his cloak, folding it over the back of the wooden chair before sinking down into it, stretching out slightly as he drank in the warmth of the fire. Nadas'an wore a loose linen shirt, airy, the kind he'd seen sailors wear in warmer climates over a pair of dark fitted pants that extended downward to cover all but his toes. He laughed quietly, pouring a second glass of wine as the Antivan shot him a curious look. He offered it up with his answer, "I do not see why one who hates the cold so fervently can continue to dress so sparsely." The elf took the glass with a smirk and his thanks.

"I do not normally venture out of doors so soon after a bath. But these clothes are comfortable, and clean. My armor is decidedly _not_. I'm afraid I don't own much." An unsuspecting sip of wine was followed swiftly by a small groan resonating through the glass. "This is _Mmph_.... _exquisite_! I've _never_ tasted anything like it..." The elf took a more generous swig, lightly swishing it in his mouth before swallowing and tipping his head back against the chair, eyes fluttered shut. He watched with a rapt fascination as the man puzzled it out. "Hmmm, honey... With a hint of ...embrium? Blackberry, aged in... _No_ that _can't_ be." The elf took another sip, an intensely concentrated expression fell across Nadas'an's face as thoughtful eyes met his gaze and swallowed. He held it, wishing such an innocuous act hadn't set his pulse racing, only made worse by spiced words he didn't know. _"Non posso crederci..."_   The Antivan quietly inquired with little uncertainty to mark his question, "Aged in ironwood? I've never heard of such a thing."

He nodded with a wry smile, immensely pleased that the elf had guessed rightly. "It is a rather rare wine." _Well, these days_ , he thought. All the wines of his people fit such descriptions now and they were far from the only things.

The Antivan hummed thoughtfully. "I dare say it must be. What's the vintage?"

He had to think about the conversion for that one. It wouldn't do to give the date he knew it by. "5127 Ancient."

"You're _kidding_."

He shook his head lightly, a small smirk rising into place at the other's shocked disbelief. "I am most certainly not."

"And you just... Let me _drink it_ like a man dying of thirst??"

He allowed an indulgent chuckle, catching the elf's gaze again. "That you cared enough to divine the parts of its sum means it was not wasted on you. It is meant to be enjoyed Nadas'an. And such things are always better enjoyed with company."

The Antivan laughed freely, a rich hearty sound that warmed his blood and calmed his nerves. "I'm not sure what it is I've done to deserve such company."

"You genuinely listen. You think on the things I've told you, and you return later with your questions. That is considerably more respect than most afford me."

The spark in those gilded eyes was as sharp as the man's sudden grin.

"It is their loss then. You are a fascinating person, Solas.”

 

After the glasses sat empty their situation was quieting, rather than awkward, their excess clothing shed until they were down to just their leggings. Perhaps it was the last three weeks spent sleeping side by side, or the wine, he surmised. Yet even in a less mutable setting it felt, normal, routine. He welcomed it as he climbed into bed facing the chilled stone wall, trusting the Antivan not only to follow, but to keep its chill at bay.

Nadas'an followed through, settling in easily and no longer hesitant. Pressed lightly to his back, the elf's arms seemed to wrap around him more possessively than the night before. He considered not for the first time precisely what this was between them. There was an obvious interest, but to what extent? He'd nearly asked in their increasingly commonplace shared dreams, but the elf had been content to ask him question after question on the Fade, the landscape they wound up in, the spirits that passed them by with an unerring curiosity. It was a profound distraction, but a pleasant one. He'd not had such companionship in ages and it was good to share his thoughts with another. Though, he caught himself slipping up more and more as time went on. A knowing look would cross the elf's face but then to his relief and immense suspicion -Nadas'an would let it go.

The Inquisitor wasn't the only one who dreamed with such focus. The reason eluded him, and Nadas'an did not have an answer beyond a shrug and an unexpectedly sweet explanation, "I was looking for you, that much I know. I... Find myself doing that often. I guess, maybe, it's just carried over into dreams?"

He could not seem to help but be drawn to the wanderer on a self-professed search for Wisdom. Perhaps there was hope for the Dalish yet. 

Perhaps the elf shared his path. 

 

He had not anticipated it to feel more intimate in his own bed, a place where he felt comfortable, safe, relaxed. His pulse quickened, a flush rose quickly across his cheekbones, his body emanating more heat than usual as his form began to respond to such arousal. The waning hope that such a reaction would go unnoticed fell short. Nadas'an noticed. 

"Are you alright Solas? Is this okay?" He nodded shallowly, hoping to deflect. "It is ...nothing." The elf quieted for a few moments until it finally seemed to dawn on him with a slight hitch in his breath. He felt the man's pulse quicken where it beat against his, his breathing grew uneven as it fanned down the back of his neck. "Forgive me, I did not mean t-" he hushed the elf gently. He would not hear apologies for this. Nadas'an grew quiet though his breath had become a soft ragged pant as the man shifted to put some space between their hips.

His every nerve grew to flames. _So close._ The man lay obviously aroused within reach, it would take nothing to capture him, make him _his_. He had shared his bed, shared his wine, customs long forgotten allowed him such an intimate host right. He took a deep breath shaking such runaway thoughts from his mind. That assumed the man was willing, but that might not be the case. 

Slowly he rolled to face Nadas'an, taking in the man's eyes blown wide into wells of darkness, a soft vulnerability in his expression he had not seen before. It riled him up further, catching recognition on the elf's heated gaze, his own arousal had been clearly seen. The elf did not flinch away.

"Nadas'an, do you... desire me?"

An almost imperceptible moan with the edge of a gasp left the elf's lips, quickly bitten, opting to respond with a nod instead. How long had the man been waiting for this? It did not escape him that there had been no reluctance in his wordless answer. That unfettered interest made him bold enough to leap.

"Would.... you be willing to give yourself to me. To surrender yourself to my care?"

The elf's breath hitched as he nodded again. It quickened his pulse with anticipation but it was not enough. He needed to hear it, needed to feel the elf’s spiced tone flavor the words, the vibration, the cadence of sentiment rolling off that honeyed tongue so well suited to allurements. "No. _Please_ , I must hear you say it."

A shuddering breath left the man, one he mirrored as liquid pleasure carried languid, so potent in the elf’s heated reply he felt it pool low in his belly. "I _would_ ... _willingly_ surrender myself to your care _Solas_."

He reached up, tentative strokes along the curve of the Antivan's jaw, sliding lower to grace his throat- flexing beneath his fingers with a hard swallow, wrapping his hand lightly around the back of his neck. He leaned in, licking his lips slightly, pausing a hairsbreadth apart, his shallow breath mingling with the Antivan that lay naked with anticipation, lips parted. He pulled the man into a soft kiss and heat bloomed between them.

It was a surprisingly easy thing to remember, how to move his lips against another's, the slight press and pull to precede his tongue, a subtle tilt to deepen the gesture. A slight whimper escaped the object of his sudden desire as Nadas'an opened for him. He took it as praise, a sign he did it right. It made him bolder, his hands roaming while his mouth consumed, flooding them both with an obvious need.

For once-

 _Inevitability_ bowed to _Pride_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non posso crederci = Unbelievable / I can't believe it.
> 
> I love stealing my own concepts apparently. /facepalm. Ah well, it gives me a chance to do it better than before.


	9. Elf Shut-off Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadas'an as a companion | The chatty elf has a shut-off switch.
> 
> Mentioned Dorian x M!Inquisitor
> 
> FLUFF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short ~500 words. Sfw.

Solas’ paramour wasn't always talkative, but when Nadas'an decided to talk it was usually at _precisely_ the wrong moment. In the midst of battle was a common one, so was while the Inquisitor was speaking, not to mention while the elf’s mouth was full, but _especially_ when he was trying to sleep.  It seemed that once the elf had something to say, it needed to come out immediately lest it be forgotten, no matter how inane the idea.  


Kissing away the Antivan's overabundance of words was only something he did in private, as it usually led to... _other_ sleepless endeavors. But that's precisely when he discovered the _peculiarity_ , on the edge of the Fade, its waters lapping at his consciousness. A firm grasp, his fingers pressed to the base of the chatty Antivan's neck, a slight circular motion. The effect was immediate. 

Nadas'an's eyes would shift out of focus. His lids sank to half-shutter their waking brilliance, his words wending to contented silence. It was endlessly _fascinating_.

This time, they were all simply exhausted, nursing their injuries around the campfire- save for Nadas'an. Waves upon waves of bandits only seemed to wake the elf up. Chatting animatedly at everyone and no one about some inane observation he had in the middle of battle. The Inquisitor shot him a tired pleading look that read plainly- _‘please make him stop’._ He chuckled quietly, surprised that the warrior had the energy for even that, usually it was Dorian who lashed out first. Though, the Mage looked to be asleep, propped up against his lover.

In their state of uncaring exhaustion he hoped such familiarity would go largely unnoticed. He reached out for the Antivan at his side, his practiced fingers settling in place at Nadas'an's neck. The elf stilled mid gesture, words dropped off to quiet incoherence before stopping altogether, hands in slow descent already forgotten in the point they had been elaborating. He pressed inward, slightly digging his fingers in on either side of the elf's spine. Nadas'an promptly melted against him with a soft sigh, slumping over against his chest. He rest his chin atop the man's head, quietly adoring his strange lover, rubbing small circles into the softening muscles, slowly working his way up the elf's spine.

In his preoccupancy he hadn't noticed the wide-eyed disbelief that faced him across the fire.

Dorian opened his incessantly obstinate mouth and he braced himself for the worst, but before the tirade could launch the Inquisitor sobered, shushing the Mage, speaking words too low to discern. The Tevinter was wrought with tongue bitten reluctance before he finally gave in to whatever the man said. It seemed he was off the hook... for now. He gradually relaxed as Nadas’an slowly laid more and more of his weight against him, accepting that their private affairs had just become far more public than he liked. Exhaling a sigh into the soft red hair of his lover, he breathed in the scent that more and more smelled of home.


	10. A different campfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadas'an as a companion | Public display of affection
> 
> Still vague Dorian x Lavellan
> 
> Mildly nsfw for suggestive descriptions.
> 
> Basically boners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a chapter about stubble rash, but then it turned into Nadas'an being Nadas'an. 
> 
> Maybe the next one will actually be moreso about Dorian and my [mysterious Lavellan](http://imgur.com/a/DBAF0).
> 
> 1000ish words

The slightest nudge unsettled his ribs, a bare brush to get his attention, should he choose to give it. Solas would have been content to continue reading his book, waiting for the Antivan to voice his thoughts, but the nudge grew sharp and insistent. As he looked up to follow the elf's gaze he discovered why.

"Oh- _really_. Here?" He whispered harshly, "Isn't one of them supposed to be on watch?"

Nadas'an was fighting a grin, a laugh that threatened to roll from such a depth in his chest it caused him to shake with the effort. The elf's golden gaze swung his way- cast him in a mischievous light, "Oh? Is that a hint of jealousy I hear? Do you feel left out _mi amor?"_

He scoffed a hair louder than he intended, but the entwined lovers across the fire were deaf to their presence, "I am certainly _not."_

A small trivial sound of disapproval left the Antivan's mouth and against his carefully constructed will, he found himself wishing to chase it, to banish such a sentiment from ever gracing those full lips. Perhaps his disinterest had been a lie.

There was a certain allure to public affection, the freedom of it with no care who might see- no care who would scoff or stare. That allure only worked when no one knew who you were, when actions couldn't change the fate of nations. He suddenly pitied the Elf across the fire for his part in the man's suffering, wrapped in the arms of one many still regarded with suspicion. The Inquisitor had enough to contend with, without the scrutiny of his love life. He sighed lightly. The elf and the pariah were hardly the most likely pair, but then neither was he and Nadas.

 _Let it linger_ , he wished silently, _let them all find moments of peace in the chaos... while there was still time._

Clever fingers crept up the back of his neck, a shiver preceded the low warning- _"Nadas-"_ the Antivan chuckled at the _inevitable_ , closed his book with a snap, spirited the text beyond his reach but he did not chase it- turning instead to catch a wanting look embroidered with a blatant ask amid the sea of freckles. He found he no longer had the desire to say no, not wishing to see any disappointment cross that sun-warmed face. Nadas'an slowly leaned in- giving him every chance to pull away. Such thoughtfulness only made him wish for this more, gentle hands reached up to cup his jaw. The warmth of the elf’s hands mirrored in that loving gaze- he snapped with want, hastened to defeat the distance between them, catching the man by surprise with his hunger. A soft lip slid from between his sharp teeth, an empty bite seeking to retaliate but found only tongue, the same honeyed movements the man used while weaving his heated language. The Antivan stole his sounds, lapped them up, pressing his advance until he was tipped back, slowly lowered to the grass beneath them. A soft moan preceded the final capture of his lip, sucking until the nerves began to protest the pull before sweet release calmed him.

He didn't know when his hands had found their way beneath the Antivan's shirt to dig into the subtle flex of muscle, nor when the man had half settled between his thighs, rocking the pronounced bulge of arousal against his own- straining the confines of his leggings almost painfully. The elf's mouth was a wonder- the spiced slide that stole his focus, the caress of his tongue building a careful warmth that demanded to be tended. Their lips swollen, sensitive, only compounded his utter loss of composure. Warm weathered hands cradled his ears, lightly rubbing circles into the sensitive points. The spill of crimson hair across his cheek followed a deepened angle as the man claimed any objections he might have mustered. He needed, _now_ \- with an urgency that made him reckless. Nothing mattered but the complete embrace of his lover, nothing but the pressure settled low in his belly demanding to be set free. His hips hitched upward of their own accord and his moan was set loose louder than he intended.

A soft gasp that wasn't theirs stilled them.

The connection of their kiss broke off as they turned their heads in unison to see a notably tousled Dorian and a breathless, red-faced Inquisitor gaping at them.

A greater depth of heat rose on his face to be so helpless before them, to have been caught all but rutting in the dirt. So bare, so powerless- but then... they turned away, returning their attentions to each other... his gaze lingered a moment on the sweet subtle affection they shared. Something he couldn't see until he was well within his own.

The weight of a brow pressed to his cheek brought him back to his own predicament. Words whispered in truthful apology, "Forgive me, _vhenan'ara_ , I did not mean to embarrass you."

He turned his face sharply, dismissing the weight that has settled against his face, staring almost in shock that the man had seen so much in him.

"No."

He softly pressed his lips to the slight frown, "Never." Another kiss, _"Never_ apologize for what you do to me, _my heart_." He pressed kiss after kiss to the slight pout until it melted away, until the spark returned to heat their forms.

"I do believe it is their watch."

His eyebrow rose, silently questioning the statement, watching the careful smirk form on the face of his lover. He returned one of his own before his quick impulsive bite at the elf’s reddened bottom lip gifted him a soft startled cry.

The Antivan retaliated in low, wanting words, "Though, I believe it would be prudent to retire to our tent. I do not wish to share what I am about to do to you."

That broad smile returned on the trail of a threat and he chased it.

_It seemed his wish was answered after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get better at describing kissing in a way that's not simply 'they kissed, it was great'.


	11. What was lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What-if Prompt | At the end of all things Nadas'an regains what was lost.
> 
> _-"Something that was lost but now regained, regret, a wish, a window, touch."-_
> 
> Potential spoilers for the Retelling, but not a fic-canon prompt, more of a 'game-canon'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one probably won't make sense without more in the way of spoilers, take it as disturbing prose. A what-if Nadas'an was left by Solas after Trespasser [following game-canon events not true to the retelling]. (As in no, the retelling wont end like this I swear.)
> 
> Horror | Physical and mental trauma | Graphic depictions of death
> 
> Spoilers: [Here's a short excerpt of 'The Retelling' in the aftermath of Adamant.](https://ma-revas-an.tumblr.com/post/152040291075/the-scars-left-by-fear-always-ran-deep)

The battle raged like any other- Teeming masses of furious limbs, discordant metal songs struck with mismatched instruments, acrid spellwork falling just short of what would twist to rage in weaker minds lit the night. The Veil thinned as death stretched its bounds before him, nearly to the point of snapping as he watched. Impassive to their plight, waiting for the telltale plummet, bracing himself for the sensation of falling that signified the shatter. It was only a matter of time, and they were desperate. It was the measure of that sentiment, the magnitude so strong he could almost taste it, which named this their last stand.

_The wolf was devouring them, scores at a time._

It should have been his battle but it wasn't, Nadas'an had given up long ago. He forcibly drowned the vestiges of duty, killed the part of him that had been Inquisitor, quelled the gnawing thoughts that they would be winning if he led them- he was not so special, so adept. He had never been the savior they wished for. His ears came to too sharp a point, his gods wrong, and wrong again- his magic that made him dangerous, too many liabilities to be the hero. Yet, the struggle that had once been his was impossible to ignore on safer shores, impossible not to follow and watch the outcome. He needed to know. Though, it was not his only reason for being here, a need not strong enough to willingly choose slowly picking his way through the stench of death, the wails of the wounded left behind.

_The world wavered._

The roiling grey sky shifted into a turbulent green. He fell briefly to his knees from the shockwave felt as much as heard as the massive rift opened. A monstrous lambent tear filled his view as the militant silhouettes surged within it- anger made liquid, seeking to fill the sudden void. The sounds of active battle silenced as he regained his footing, cautiously continuing on, calling forth what will remained for a barrier. With each step forward reality became less anchored. Thunder shook his bones, but the rain came from below. The lifeblood of the fallen fell upward. Some mage among the dead had turned in their desperation. There was too much fuel-

 _The long familiar tang of fear hastened his steps toward the rift_.

Corpses of Humans, Dwarves, even Qunari lay thick in crimson mottled patchwork upon the burnt and bruised fields, pockmarked by figures frozen in terror- statues. No elves lay among them, yet the ancients and shemvhen had retreated all the same. He saw the maneuver for what it was- the unusually cooperative armies of Thedas were being drawn into a trap. A clever trap. Into a place where their own minds would be their downfall. Into a realm they had no business being. But the way was open, and he was selfish, so he followed on the heels of their fallen- drawn inexorably toward what he sought.

_Nothing swallowed their fears any longer._

His nightmares had ceased. The world had grown dark with the terrors of man set loose, unforgotten. He knew The Nightmare was no more, though the nightmares were only beginning. And before the creature's end he saw it- or perhaps it had allowed him to see once more....

The eye the creature stole from him still remained. The window of his soul, the part of him the creature had used to torment him for many years lingered. Whole, undamaged, waiting.

Behind him, the cries of the wounded were silenced in unison as the twisted mage among them let loose a guttural scream.

The healer in him nearly turned around, but it wasn't his fight.

Nadas'an stepped forward, shrugged off the waking world with the heavy mantle of his guilt- entering the raw Fade once more.

 

Time was its own keeper here. The battle seethed elsewhere- its outcome had long lost his immediate attention. Perhaps it would rage forever. Perhaps the world had already ceased to be. None of it mattered as much as it should. He came for what he'd lost. Perhaps regaining it would give him the strength to finally confront the man who took his arm.

_Perhaps he could become whole before the end._

It called to him, informed his steps as he travelled the shifting stones at an awkward run. It had been many years since he'd given himself to such haste- Willing his mind to show him the way to the former domain of _‘Every Fear Come to Life’._

That he met no resistance should have worried him. No spirits, or demons, no doors barred his path. Shifting fluidly from one disjointed scape to the next- What little hope remained in him settled firmly in the wish that his obstacles had their attentions drawn elsewhere.

_Not even the nagging doubt that he'd never been so lucky could slow him now._

He almost passed it by, the realm where they'd fallen from Adamant. The Nightmare had darkened his vision then, forced him to lean blind upon his companions- to see it was seeing it for the first time. Though, it was not all he saw. Strange echoes remained. Apparitions of their path, lingered. He saw them all whole, tense, but unharmed. The dead still lived here. Empathy had yet to fracture. A man was simply a man, not a fearful god. An elf was whole, unmarred by his burdens.

_The reminder ached._

There was something else- blurred, recent. A lone ghostly figure watched with him, pausing when he paused. It wasn’t a spirit, it lacked substance, cohesion, a memory then? It seemed another had watched their long past struggle against fear. Or perhaps it was simply the ever shifting fractures of the Fade, destabilizing outward from the far away conflict, showing him himself even as it happened.

It lost his interest and he continued on. Time was short and he had no heart left for remorse of his choices.

 

It was a trap.

_It had to be._

There was only one force he knew of capable of felling such a powerful demon in this particular manner. The husk of The Nightmare loomed, slate grey, petrified in a vast heap, its spindly legs splayed in a circle- reaching for the blurred phantom striding ahead of him. If not for the now insistent ache in his empty eye-socket pulling him towards its final place of rest, the corpse could have been simply another disjointed outcrop of rock.

His anxiety grew in the absence of fear, gaze shifting past the ghost to another flickering gilded flame. A small light emanated from one of the many pitted recesses set in the creature’s face. All those roving eyes lay quiet, still, save one.

Panic shortened breaths seized his chest. Cold pain flooded his eye socket as he drew near, and like frost-laced water it poured ever inward freezing as it went. Connections that long lay severed regenerated by forces not of his own, fleetingly he recognized the mark of magic that had been his once, for a time borrowed. Clarity returned to him with the stony realization of regret, he'd been drawn from the battle on purpose. It was bait.

_He now saw the apparition clearly with the eye that faced him._

Nadas'an fell to his knees under the weight of his own gaze and the sorrowful gaze of the other.

A solitary shaking hand reached out, fingers barely brushing the surface of his own eye. It vanished as the gaping abyss in his skull grew whole again.

He blinked back the sudden wealth of tandem grief.

It was a gift.

An apology.

 

_A farewell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this hurt to write. This was a writing challenge on /r/Dragonage that fit well with some of the terrible things I've written there. Poor Nadas'an.
> 
> Shemvhen = Quick elves (non ancients)


	12. Do not ask it of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What-If prompt | Bad jokes at the end of all things
> 
> You wanted endings? I got your endings. (also not really an 'end')
> 
> Old prompt that doesn't answer enough questions but I figured why not add it here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the new awful tags cover this one too. 
> 
> Graphic depictions of injury | death | Bad jokes | Elves kissing | Weird magic
> 
> Chaotic POV shifts following each double line-break space.

Solas couldn’t see the arrow through the blur of his grief, and it was the smallest mercy. It meant he could not take in the eyes open wide in their last shock, unseeingly watchful over the shifting sky of the raw Fade. It meant he could not memorize the melted twist of his lover’s armor ringing the hole in his chest where his heart should be. He felt blindly for the arrow, bracing one hand against his lover’s still chest. His fingers trembled as they met the shaft, he pulled sharply- the barbed arrow tore free. He shuddered with a sob even knowing he wouldn’t feel it. If he didn’t hurry Mahvir would never feel anything ever again, and in his own way… neither would he. Taking the man’s face in his hands he shut his eyes, unable to witness what he was about to do, “Forgive me vhenan, this… cannot be your end, _not now.”_

He kissed the Antivan’s full lips, parted, unresponsive- he fought the depth of his pain to reach deep within himself to fix what shouldn’t have broken. He felt for the weak spirit of the man barely lingering with the waning warmth of his form. He cast the spell with a thought- Forging the pathways that would relight his fire. He forced himself to occupy his form, extending himself even as he pressed inward- mentally dividing his essence to heal his lover. His strength pouring into the void he left behind, the sharp edge of pain lanced through him as the light pierced them both. He felt it all at once. His body and the broken one he clutched, he felt the unendurable pain in his chest as he knit the gaping wound in his. Pouring more and more of his magic into the act in his desperate bid- Mahvir had taken the blow meant for him, fulfilling the promise spoken long ago. It should be him who lay so broken.

He felt the strong pull of a heart that existed once more, and with its first pulse he closed the path, wrenching himself away, giving just enough of himself to save him. The man had given everything to do the same, it was a small price one he’d pay willingly again- hoping he’d never have to see the man die for his mistakes ever again.

Mahvir convulsed briefly, violently coming to as his form remembered the throes of his sudden death. He held the elf tight as he coughed his first breath, incoherent words falling from trembling lips. He cradled him tight to his chest, afraid of what he’d wrought, afraid it had been too late, afraid his lover would not survive what he’d done.

And then the elf cried out his name.

 

Nadas’an clutched his chest, the claws of his gauntlet catching on a massive hole in his armor, melted and twisted, his skin bare but whole. He struggled to understand, it was too much. The sky was… _green_. The last thing he remembered was searing pain as he shouted for Solas to enter the Fade, the grief that readily rewrote the terrified features that faced him was one thing too many.

“S-solas?“

“Vhenan. Please, lie still. You were injured.”

Fear suddenly clutched him more tightly than the Mage as he tried to feel around the back of his armor but he was held still. The attempt shifted him enough to feel the sharp angles of the mage’s- cold against skin that shouldn’t be bare. He swallowed roughly, “Injured? I’d say that is a terrific understatement. Did… Did I die?”

Solas leaned down, the press of a brow against his own, a desperate point of contact. His reply a hoarse whisper, “I couldn’t leave you, not like that.”

“Oh Solas. What have you done mi amor?”

"I did what I had to. I will not take it back, do not ask it of me.”

“Take… what back?”

“A piece of what makes me what I am.”

He chuckled weakly, "You brought me back just so we could die together? You shouldn’t have taken that risk Solas, if it weakened you…”

 

Solas silenced his lover with a kiss- A desperate assurance that the man truly lived beyond the strong second heartbeat that lingered beneath his skin. His anchor.  
His heated plea was answered this time.

Their presence, the pull of their sentiments far too strong for such a place was beginning to attract attention. He helped the man to his feet, swaying as he clutched his shoulder. “This is the Fade? You made it?”

 _“We-_ made it vhenan.”

Nadas’an chuckled weakly, “I suppose we did.”

Solas stared up at the twisting fortress, fragmented sections floating apart from the whole would make the walk treacherous, but this is where it had to happen. This was the piece that needed to be mended first to fix the rest, to unravel the veil.

Mahvir let out a slightly pained grunt over the clang of metal falling to the stones. His ruined chest plate had fallen away leaving only the tattered leather coat over his light linen shirt, irreparably burned but mostly whole. Solas winced at the crackle of energy that stood his nerves on end as much as the pained gasp that followed. He turned to see his lover grasping the end of his marred arm in disbelief as the familiar green glow coalesced into the semblance of an arm.

“What is... Is that… _Is that the anchor?”_

He nodded ruefully. “Traces of it remained in you, tangled. I could only sever its harm to you. But it would recognize what I gave you. It won’t harm you now.”

“Oh, _well..._ That’s…” Solas shook his head, knowing where that impervious broad smirk was going. _“Handy.”_

He snorted, unable to suppress the slightly hysterical chuckle that followed- and it quickly became a tearful laugh. A broad hand fell to his shoulder, a warm smile pressed to his cheek. “What’s say you and I get on with this Veil business? I have a date I do not wish to be late for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should write more of this one.
> 
> Not gonna lie, this one was partially an experiment to gauge pairing interest. Let's just say the Female Lavellan version won by a huge margin. 
> 
> I stood on a strange precipice for a minute there. I almost had more in common with Nadas'an than I'd have liked. But it didn't happen and I am mostly back and mostly writing again.


End file.
